


The Trickster: Ragnarok

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: The Trickster Universe [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe Phase 2, BAMF!Loki, Blood Magick, Court Politics, Epic Bromance, Geas magick, Geas manipulation, Gen, Infinity Gems, Infinity Stones like whoa, It would be Epic Friendship except this is Loki we're talking about, Liberal use of Norse mythology, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Has Issues, Loki is Not Amused, Loki is not friends with anyone and is like a prickly hedgehog, Loki really cares for Thor - honest, Loki's past with the coterie, More magick theory, Not Agents of SHIELD Season 2 Compliant, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Odin's Parenting, Odin's past, Protective Loki, Somewhat not exactly Guardians of the Galaxy Compliant, Thor Is Not Stupid, Trickster Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 132,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2882930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From tragedies, villains rise.  From tragedies, heroes fall.  The sons of the House of Odin come full circle; this is Ragnarok. Loki-centric, Avengers-centric, no pairings.  Sequel to "Frozen in Time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the big concluding story within the Trickster Universe and is set one year after Captain America: The Winter Soldier and follows immediately after the events of Frozen in Time. A few things have been altered from the original MCU, namely all characters know that Coulson is alive and certain characters that died in the movie are dead. **The only movie as of December 2014, that is NOT CANON in my universe is Thor: The Dark World and parts of Guardians of the Galaxy (the Thanos parts).**
> 
> Important Note:  
> To fully enjoy this story, please make sure you are familiar with the cliffnotes of the Trickster Universe in the Author's Notes at the end of Chapter 10 of Frozen in Time, as well as have read Chapter 16 and onward of Frozen in Time, otherwise you will be missing most of the backstory/politicking/plotlines that sets up this one. For those who have plowed through all three stories – have fun with this one!

Heimdall took great pride in his duties as the Guardian of the Realms; executing them with the powers bestowed upon him thousands of years before by Bor Allfather. It was a duty not taken lightly, even with the knowledge gained from it or from the many years of watch of the realms. He had seen empires rise and fall, the stability and occasional staleness of rulers, the ebb and flow of rebellion, war, and peace. Chaos rose and fell like the constantly fluctuating tide of moons and stars rotating in orbits that were not symmetrical. Though he knew that there were stars beyond the ones of the nine realms that Asgard watched and ruled over, it was his duty to guard against the threats that would threaten the peace and stability of the other realms. He was the vanguard, the forefront of the might of Asgard – a power none took lightly for the thousands of years of peace.

But Heimdall was also practical and knew like the ebb and flow of tides, the peace was not to last. It was why he had been tasked, to watch and raise the alarm of potential chaos coming to the realms. But chaos did not necessarily have to come from outside the realm, it was easily bred within. The past few years were a testament to the chaos of the universe, even though it was a mere blip in the long life he had led thus far, still proved to him that his watch was sorely needed . However, more often than not chaos came from outside the realms, especially the circumstances that led to his appointment as the current Guardian of the Realms. And so he kept his strict vigil, watching Midgard more often than he had in the past hundreds of years than the other realms, shadows in between that he barely glimpsed, and beyond the realms' borders.

Midgard was the usual source of chaos in the past few years, the mortals gaining knowledge by the thousand fold; perhaps it was due to Thor's presence there. He knew of the swirl of rumors, of what the Court thought of Thor's affections for the mortals, a whim of fancy in the Court's opinion – but Heimdall could tell that the Crown Prince held a deep affection that went beyond mere curiosity, for the mortals. He held in great affection and value for his newly found comrades, the Avengers. Heimdall himself had no opinions on the mayflies of the mortals, but he did acknowledge their fighting prowess and cunning ingenuity against the foes that would cause further chaos in their realm that would have spread to others if they had left it unchecked. At the very least, they had his acknowledgment and occasional sympathy. He saw as Guardian what the others of the Court did not see, perhaps refused to acknowledge, sometimes what even Odin Allfather refused to acknowledge to some extent. But that was not his duty to trouble his liege and lord. He was Guardian. He saw beyond one realm and towards others and even further.

But at this moment, Midgard was the object of his watch, ever since he spied the Crown Prince pacing the stonework of Asgard's halls before summoning the fortitude to talk to the second Prince, and then suddenly appearing on Midgard. Prince Loki was clever enough to have concealed his overt involvement in transporting Crown Prince Thor through the shadows of Yggdrasil, something Heimdall still could not see much to his concern. But it would have been obvious who helped Thor if they had seen what he had seen. But there was no harm to the realms, just trickery and concealment afoot and something while it annoyed him to an extent, was not threatening.

The second Prince's transporting of the Jotun assassins however, had been another story. That had been a direct attack and threat on Asgard itself.

Still, the fact that Prince Loki had literally transported his brother into the midst of an intense battle between HYDRA and whatever remained of the mortal Phil Coulson's organization warranted his watch – if only to sate his curiosity. He watched the Crown Prince dispatch his foes before doing his duty and summoning Thor back to Asgard. After all, it had been against the explicit orders for the Crown Prince to _not_ leave the realm and had to wait until the HYDRA soldiers had been dispatched before he activated the Bifrost to bring the wayward Crown Prince back.

He had then let Odin deal with his designated Heir who had been waiting in the Observatory with a stony look on his weathered face. Prince Loki had waited next to the Allfather, every inch of his body language and expression denying that he had transported Thor back to Midgard just minutes earlier, but it seemed Odin's ire had been directed at Thor instead of Loki when he had returned. Heimdall had been partial to many of the royal family's... _disagreements_ , even involved in a few himself – though that had been more during Bor Allfather's reign than when Odin had taken the throne. But even he had been involved in the disagreements between Odin and his sons.

This latest one was of similar vein; ultimately regarding the Crown Prince and his association with the Avengers, but had been worded with a careful emphasis on more the fact that Thor had disobeyed the Allfather's orders, again, than of him coming to the rescue of his mortal friends. What was different about this one than the last time Thor had confronted his father in the Observatory was that Thor had begun to show some of the qualities that had only been overt in Prince Loki – a play on words and of careful consideration of said words. Thor had actually disagreed with Odin and had stated that he had not asked Heimdall to send him back and instead had just, _appeared_ of all things, on Midgard before being seen by Heimdall and retrieved after dispatching those that might have potentially harmed Asgard.

Perhaps there had been merit to Thor's latest adventures with the mortals, because Heimdall knew from long experience that the Allfather would have turned to the second Prince and asked if he had walked his brother through the shadows, but Odin did no such thing. He instead, had just stared at Thor for a very long moment before gesturing to the two Princes to return with him to the heart of Asgard with the barest murmurs of the Queen missing them for evening meal.

When Thor had been finally allowed to return to Midgard, there had been the unspoken command to Heimdall to watch the Crown Prince carefully. He knew that Odin disliked Thor's association with the mortals, finding it a flight of fanciful whim instead of actually focusing his efforts on the title of his station. He obeyed his king and lord's command and thus found himself watching Midgard with a careful eye. He knew it was not worry of the Crown Prince's health, Thor certainly could take care of himself and then some – assassins over the many years long dispatched by him or by Prince Loki – but of the fact that Odin _wanted_ Thor to take over the throne. To take his rightful place and put away the childish things of youth, like adventuring with the mortals. Heimdall himself had little to no opinion on the Avengers, but he did occasionally find them fascinating, and more often than not, acquiesced to Thor's request to watch his friends during the times he was unable to join them on their adventures.

Midgard itself was going through changes in the last few years – merely a blink of an eye through Heimdall's long life – but changes nonetheless. Whereas change on some of the other realms crept by in decades and centuries, Midgard's changes were quick, fast, and more often than not degraded from peaceful negotiations to warfare. Some of the warfare was not the flying of primitive projectile weaponry, but of their technology – looking a lot more like the magicks of Asgard and the other eight realms as they kept discovering the artifacts left behind from ages ago.

And so Heimdall watched as Thor arrived back on Midgard, meeting the son of Coul, hidden from the eyes of his enemies in an underground bunker of sorts. Curiously enough, he had never heard mention of the dissolution of SHIELD to the Allfather from Thor, even though he had witnessed it himself. It had not involved Asgard and Heimdall certainly knew that the Allfather only made the treatise as a formality with Director Fury, something to placate the mortals and their over entitled sense of superiority against the rest of the realms. But he thought it would be something the Crown Prince would have mentioned to the Allfather since SHIELD's fall a little over a year ago. But there was no mention, not even a hint and since it did not involve Asgard, Heimdall himself had not mentioned it. There was no danger to the realm with SHIELD's dissolution by its enemies. He knew that they probably had a name, but was not inclined to find out what it was unless it was a threat to Asgard. So far, the nameless enemy of SHIELD did not seem to be a threat, confining its activities to Midgard.

He watched as Thor bustled around the bunker, his eyes turning occasionally to the others as the Crown Prince had more private moments with his Lady Jane. The curious addition of the metal-armed man in recent days, accompanying the warrior Rogers had garnered a bit of his attention. He had watched the man's curious interaction with the warrior Rogers, and had seen how Thor had treated the man, a kindly humbleness that was unlike the occasional time Heimdall had seen Thor treat Loki. But the difference was that there was a respectful acceptance and almost understanding to the metal-armed man at Thor's words and gestures – as if he craved it, but was still trying to overcome whatever demons plagued him.

Though Heimdall was indifferent to the happenings of Midgard, he was still curious enough to know that perhaps there was merit to Thor's adventures with his mortal friends – it opened his eyes to the vast possibilities of ruling the realms and made him more aware of the plights of those he would soon rule over. The only thing that inhibited this was his constant focus on Midgard instead of taking a far greater interest in the other eight realms, even of Asgard herself. Heimdall understood Odin Allfather's concerns, but it was not his place or station to voice them, unless directly ordered to.

And so he continued to watch, the metal arm man slipping out from the watch of the others, confronting another man, bringing him back to the worry and relief of the others, and that was when he first noticed the flicker.

It was too fast for the mortals and their eyes to follow, judging by the lack of reaction from everyone; too fast for even Thor to see – but then again Heimdall saw that he was focused on the son of Coul questioning their newest prisoner. The flicker had come from the man recently captured, bound, sitting in a small room with a hungry, lean look on his face behind the monocle that had appeared during his transportation. A guileless smile was on the man's lips as he taunted, but Heimdall focused on the man's features-

There. There it was again. The flicker that he was sure was of magicks. This man certainly was not who he claimed to be, but that was for Thor and his mortal friends to figure out. But that was not his concern. It was what he had _thought_ he had glimpsed under the flicker of magicks. Tufts of auburn-red hair, slim angular face and lightly speckled cheeks and icy blue eyes that had long been thought dead. His mind rebelled at the possibility – there were mortals who certainly could have similar features, after all, those who disappeared from Lady Hel's gaze sometimes ended up as mortals, or as others in lives different from when they had passed into her realm and care.

But there had been no body.

Lady Hel had even reported in the aftermath that even she did not see him amongst her subjects all the thousands of years ago.

Odin had voiced what they had all thought – _he_ had been lost to the shadows and voids of Yggdrasil. The pronouncement came moments before he had ascended to the throne and became Allfather.

Yet...

Heimdall extended his hand out, using the innate skills he had received ever since taking up the position of Guardian, and mentally summoned one of the ravens of the Allfather. He could feel the tether and snap of command response as he continued to peer down at Midgard. Something had happened, knocking both the red-haired assassin Romanov and the metal-armed man, sending everyone scrambling and leaving the monocled man, whose image wavered with hints of magicks, alone. There. He saw the flicker again, a shimmer that he had long recognized from the thousand years of the second Prince casting his illusions without a care in the world. No mortal, save perhaps one or two that he had deigned to watch on occasion, could ever command such magicks as similar to what had just happened.

The loud caw of Munnin before his heavy weight landed on his vambrace signaled the arrival of the raven. He did not turn his gaze away from Midgard, but saw out of the corner of his eye the raven adjusting its perch, tilting his head inquisitively to stare at him. Munnin was quieter than his brother raven, Huugin, preferring to let his avian expressions convey his emotions and his duties as the Allfather's familiar. Huugin on the other hand, was more prone to chattering, cackling, and cawing as if there was some kind of cosmic joke constantly being told. But Huugin executed his duties as efficiently as his brother raven. Still the two were as much alike when not summoned for duties and the like, Munnin more prone to defend Huugin from attacks by others who disliked their all-seeing eyes, Huugin more prone to playing pranks and trickery as ravens were wont to do.

Munnin shifted his perch and with an air of daintiness shuffled his way up his vambrace, taking care to gently curl his talons enough to keep his grip, but not enough to puncture skin. He cawed softly again and Heimdall pursed his lips. It was imperative that the Allfather be notified of this, otherwise, he would not have needlessly summon his familiar.

“Sleipnir has been potentially spotted,” he said quietly, keeping his gaze focused on the small room the not-monocled man had been placed. “Midgard, near the Crown Prince. I will summon Thor back if the Allfather wishes it for further orders.” The Bifrost always had the ability to cut through layers of earth and metal if Heimdall deemed it so, but at the same time he knew it was very rude to punch through protective layers. But he was willing to cut through the bunker if it meant summoning Thor back for further instructions and perhaps a retrieval of one who had been thought lost for so long.

The raven trilled softly and Heimdall felt the acute pinch of talons nearly breaking skin as the bird fluttered, trying to keep its balance when it was clearly in shock. Munnin tilted its head and blinked once at him, as if asking him to confirm once more.

“He wears the guise of one of SHIELD's enemies, but I have seen flickers of illusion magicks and underneath that, the features of Sleipnir. I will watch further,” he confirmed to the raven who blinked once again and spread his wings, taking off with a quick flap.

The question that lingered for him was, if it truly was Sleipnir, why, after thousands of years, did he deem to show himself now? And why was he only showing hints of flickering magick when Heimdall knew him to be one of the strongest battlemages? Most of all, what had happened to him since that fateful day – the day that marked the ascent of the House of Odin – _second_ son in line to the throne of Bor Allfather.

* * *

Second son, second Prince, second _everything_ . If there was one thing Loki absolutely hated and detested about Asgard and life itself was Odin's words hundreds of years ago - “ _Only one of you may rule, but you were both born to be kings!_ ” Such cheer, such falsity and hope given, such... Loki rolled his eyes and sneered inwardly as he turned the page on the tome he was reading, ignoring the arrival of the Courtiers and the stirrings of Court coming to life on this early morn. He did not know why he had suddenly thought of his position, but reflected that perhaps it was because the Courtiers had only whispered about Thor since yesterday's interesting turn of events. Thor's sudden arrival and departure certainly had something to do with it – not that Loki had anything involved in sending his bro- sending the idiot through the shadows just for him to rescue his precious mortal friends.

He flicked a quick look up at the already gossiping Courtiers that had arrived early and pursed his lips together. That was probably the source of his annoyance as he looked back down at his tome. He shifted a little, continuing to lean against the pillar near the throne and turned to another page. The Courtiers were _still_ gossiping about Thor and his responsibilities, the Crown Prince, his prowess on the battlefield, his lack of presence in the Court, what they suspected he was doing, what they wanted him to do, what they wished-

Loki wanted to _throw_ something at them. Certainly not to stop the rumors, no he was annoyed yet amused by them, but rather because they were interrupting his concentration in trying to read. His fingers twitched as he considered a silencing spell and heard the soft hiss of laughter from the throne itself respond. He glanced over to the burnished metal chair itself to see the curl of a venomous fang-filled smile directed at him as the serpent hissed his laughter again.

“Jor,” he murmured quietly and the snake responded with a very human-like shrug of its body before lowering his head and curling further into the chair. The snake blinked once, flicking its tongue out to taste the air before curling into a tighter and contented ball. Jor's silent point was clear, a few more minutes of idle gossip meant less of a hassle and dealing with the early arrival of the Allfather just because some of the Court decided to jabber away like mockingbirds in the early morning.

Plus he was slightly amused by the fact that Jormungandr had decided to use the _Allfather's_ throne, of all places, as his personal warm nesting spot, more than likely feeling the innate magicks permeating it to make himself comfortable. Since he had his core ripped out of him a little over two years ago and bound to his serpentine form, he had found spots where magick permeated through inanimate objects to be a source of comfort. Loki knew this as well as Jormungandr, having learned it from the serpent's older brother Fenrir when he had talked about his previous assassination contracts. Those who had magicks and their core ripped out – if they survived – usually sought out others with magick or areas of great magick concentration and settled there, trying to fill a seemingly bottomless void that could not be filled.

It was pathetic, Jormungandr clearly deserved having his magick flayed from his source, and Loki did not know why he had kept the serpent near him since Director Fury all but dropped into his hands two years previous. He supposed it was some lingering sentimentality, some foolish whim that he did not discard Jormungandr. At least it provided some amusement, and a healthy distraction from whenever Thor was feeling sentimental or inclined towards his attempts at becoming “brothers” once more. The only saving grace was that Thor still heeded the warnings of receiving a knife in his ribs if he so much as tried to embrace him.

Loki closed the tome with a quiet thump, startling the two Courtiers that had been obliviously chattering near him and they hastily bowed, fear flashing in their eyes before moving away, their stilted conversation muted into whispers. He watched them go, saw the minute tremble of fear as both turned to look back, scurrying further away. Had the fear been for the fact that he was a Frost Giant? Monster still told in stories and lore, the peace treaty with Jotunheim made three years previous not withstanding. Or did they think his magicks allowed him to bewitch their minds and use their words against them in some nefarious purpose?

Either or, he was glad for the silence. He was, however, a little more than irked that there had only been fear, but no respect in their eyes. Three years; three years since and Thor was still the whispered one, the Crown Prince, the darling of the Court – even with his absence for the most part. His attempt at conquering Midgard had not been considered heroic nor his attempt to blast Jotunheim into oblivion with the Bifrost. For a war-like race, the Asgardians and Aesir were certainly hypocritical of the bloodshed before them.

Loki let out a small quieting breath, calming himself from his sudden burst of anger and annoyance. Three years was a drop compared to the hundreds and thousands of years he knew he had left of his life. But he also knew that time was of the essence, and that the rumblings of Odin's succession was growing louder. The Allfather did not look as weary as he did in the days before Thor's exile four years past, but Loki could sense that something was amiss. Perhaps it was the beginnings of the Odinsleep, but somehow, he knew that it was not the case. Thanos' imprisonment was all but ensured, treatises drafted with Nidelheim and Jotunheim ensured trade and prosperity as well as the affirmation of non-hostilities from Jotunheim. The coterie were all but dead at his hand and of the two that remained, one bound to his serpentine form, the other, ruling the realm of the unjudged dead under the careful watch of Heimdall.

So then what was this unsettling feeling?

As if the Norns decided to laugh at him and answer his unspoken question, Loki _felt_ and heard it before he saw it – Jormungandr suddenly lifting his head and hissing a warning, coiled and tense.

_Escapeescapeescapeescapeneedtobefreenofreedom_

The ripple of aberration that should not have been there, a voluminous mass of dark, writhing _wrong_ appeared in the middle of the Court. The golden burnished splendor of Odin's throne room was slivered with the loud _silence_ of nightmares. Even before he saw it, Loki dropped the tome to the ground with the heavy thunk and automatically drew out his glaive from the spaces in between he carried with him. As the rip to the void of Yggdrasil grew larger, he took a step forward, magicks tingling at his fingers, his other hand ready to fire the world-shattering ice power of the Casket of Ancient Winters embedded in the glaive's crown.

_Nofreedomcannotbefreemustbefreeneedtoescapeescape_

Just as suddenly a flash of auburn-red hair stumbled through the open ripple into the shadows of the void, dressed in distinct Midgardian clothing that seemed like it belonged to a military. His body trembled with exhaustion as he turned around and with shaking hands, sealed the portal with a thin blue line before the whispers and cacophonous _silence_ abruptly stopped.

Task done, the man slumped to the ground, clearly exhausted, as he hung his head and half-closed his eyes, seemingly gathering himself. Loki eyed the newcomer warily, magicks still tingling at his finger tips as he extended his senses. The magick that swirled around the man seemed artificial, but not in the sense that he had gotten from the man of iron, Tony Stark, but rather, it was _borrowed_. He could feel the fraying threads, the sinews that seemed abruptly cut and haphazardly welded together as if the man once had magick, but somehow had been abruptly severed. He could not feel further, running into an odd resistance and stiffened as the red-haired man opened his eyes and slowly looked up.

His features were aristocratic and angular and Loki could sense the lingering spellwork of an illusion that had once coated him, but had long dissipated. The magicks of a very powerful explosive spellwork lingered around his skin instead of just his fingertips and out of the corner of his eye, he saw several of the guards shift closer weapons drawn, bringing the man's gaze on them.

“Einherjar...” he breathed out quietly, looking around him, his icy blue eyes widening as if he was seeing everything for the first time.

“You obviously are not mortal, to have survived Asgard itself,” Loki spoke up quietly, lowering his glaive, but kept it close and almost idle next to him as the man's eyes focused on him. He decided not to mention the man crossing the shadows of the void; the knowledge known only to a very select few.

“This...place...” the man breathed out quietly, looking away from him for a brief moment, staring at Odin's throne to which Jormungandr hissed rather angrily from where he nestled and puffed up, coiling tighter. “This...” the man turned back to look at him and Loki saw the clear relief in them, even though he had weapons pointed at him, “...I am finally...home...”

The man smiled almost deliriously as he looked around again, his hands pressing on the floor as if he could not believe the runes and etchings in them. Loki watched him carefully as some of the Courtiers who had not fled in the initial opening of the portal, slowly stepped forward, murmuring to each other at the newest unexpected visitor. There was something that he could not pinpoint about him, but nonetheless, he could feel the waning of magicks around the man as he looked around before finally turning on his knees to face him and bowed low, his head touching the stonework.

“I beg of you, milord, please tell me if Odin Borson rules as Allfather?”

“He does...” Loki answered and saw the bed of red-hair nod, shoulders slumping as if a weight had been taken off of him.

“Then all is right,” he barely caught the muttered whisper before the man continued in a louder voice, “I wish to seek an audience with him for it has been a return long coming. Please tell him that his Sentinel-”

“-Sleipnir...” Odin's voice was but a whisper, yet Loki thought he heard it as loud and as clear as if he had shouted the name across the cavernous throne room. All heads turned to see the Allfather standing by the secondary entrance, Gungnir held tightly in his hands. “You live...”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:**  
>  I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

“...You died...” it took a moment for Loki to realize that those words had come from Odin's mouth, and another second for him to utterly comprehend it and realize that the Allfather had actually spoken them. With a quiet start, he realized he had never heard Odin sound so  _shaken_ . There had always been a quiet confidence, of power behind his words, even mere whispers or commands spoken. In battle, there had been the flow of bolstering magicks, just an undercurrent, but nonetheless there to aid others. And the words spoken just now sounded utterly foreign to his ears.

“No, my liege,” Sleipnir had turned and immediately bowed low to the ground once more, his head touching his hands held in front of him as he knelt on both knees. Utter supplication of authority to the Allfather, unlike how most greeted the Allfather with a single knee bent, arm across and head bowed until acknowledged by the Allfather. “As you had said, I live. I beseech an audience with you to tell you of the tale,” the auburn-haired man said quietly and Loki frowned a little, the words sounding oddly familiar until he realized it was something _he_ himself would have said to request a private audience with the Allfather.

Unlike the stupid oaf Thor who usually barged in and tried to request a private audience by saying something that would have usually alerted the Court of something wrong, Loki normally asked for a private audience in the rare times he wished for one, by some vague polite request that was as bland as indicating the daily astronomical weather patterns. It was...disconcerting to hear such smooth words coming from Sleipnir's mouth as if they were his own. He cast a faint spell, his senses stretching out to see if there was anything amiss and felt the normal ancient skeins and threads of wards surrounding Asgard and the throne room as well as the remnant of the void, and the faintness of a illusion spell as well as an explosive one already fading from Sleipnir's form.

His spellcasting must have been detected as he saw Sleipnir stiffen a little in response to his stretching awareness, but otherwise did not move from his position as he waited for the Allfather's response. Curious indeed...what was Sleipnir? Sensitive enough to feel him casting a faint spell? A part of his Sentinel abilities? What was a Sentinel? A title that Loki had never heard of in all of his life in Asgard nor in his research of the libraries. Granted there were books and tomes he had never read in Asgard's vast library, but he did have a good working knowledge of the realm's history as well as the other eight realms – which was extremely useful while he had been with his coterie.

“Granted,” the Allfather said quietly before looking at the guards that had surrounded Sleipnir. They snapped to attention and lowered their weapons before unceremoniously cleared out the members of the Court, some of whom had returned finding that no battle had been fought nor any blood shed. It only took a few minutes, but after the last of the guards had cleared out the Court, silence filled the throne room. Even most of the Einhenjar had left, leaving only the barest of guards and especially those that Loki recognized would never ever breathe a word of what happened in Odin's private audiences. The faces Loki long recognized from the day that he had pleaded for mercy for his own coterie all those hundreds of years ago – and true to their word, they had not even spoken a single word about _that_ particular audience.

“You may proceed, Sleipnir,” the Allfather's voice had returned to its quiet countenance, “my son, Loki, has provided good council to me in the past.”

A flash of annoyance passed through Loki as he realized that Sleipnir had been hesitating to speak and had stiffened at mention of not of the fact that he had provided council to Odin – something that had also surprised himself – but rather that the auburn-haired man had reacted to his name. Loki caught the minute widening of eyes from the other followed by the jerk of his head as he briefly looked up at Odin before looking back down. Sleipnir knew his place; as both an intruder and the fact that the Allfather had granted his request when normally anyone else would have instantly been questioned or placed in a cell to be questioned later.

So Odin truly believed that this Sleipnir was whom he claimed. Or not, as Loki saw Odin's grip on Gungnir tighten ever so slightly, tense and ready to strike. He kept his own weapon held loosely in his hands, his magicks relaxed, but ready to strike in case it was a ruse of sorts. It would not be the first time an assassin had made his or her way into the throne room on the pretense of having a private audience with the Allfather. Granted, no other assassin had walked the shadows of the void to do so, but there was always a first for everything. Jormungandr hissed softly from where he was still puffed up and coiled tightly on the throne itself, breaking the oppressive silence of the throne room.

“His name...y-you...” Sleipnir's voice cracked a little, making his already soft rasp even raspier, as he blinked rapidly before a sad smile flitted across his face, “O-Odin...” He seemed to compose himself as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the faint exhale audible in the silence. There was a momentary pause before the auburn-red haired man's lips quirked up in a small smile. “You have aged...Odin, er, Allfather. I...has it been so long?”

“Over four thousand years since,” Odin had not moved from where he stood, “we thought you dead.”

Sleipnir's bowed form twitched at that statement, “I...I am sorry, Allfather. If...if there had been any way for me to return, for me to let you know that I was alive...”

Something about what the other man was saying stirred something in Loki until he realized it was very reminiscent of his own conversation with Thor four years previous on the mountains called the Alps on Midgard. Filled with almost the same concern, the same warmth and affection-

_“We thought you dead,” the grip on his shoulder was full of warmth and affection and Loki sneered, roughly shrugging it off. He needed no one's pity, and certain not this idiot._

_“Did you mourn?” he growled out, lips curling over his teeth at the hurt and shock that sprang up in Thor's eyes. Good, he did not need his feigned platitudes. He certainly threw him hard enough upon landing from the quinjet._

_“We all did-_ ”

“We mourned...” it was not the Allfather who had spoken the next words, interrupting Loki out of his reverie, but rather the Allmother and he turned to see her standing by the entrance of the throne room, Huugin perched on her shoulder. She looked out of breath and Loki surmised that she must have hastily dismissed her own Court to run here. There was another soft caw behind her and she turned slightly, revealing that Eir had also arrived, Muugin on her shoulder. The chief healer, however, looked more composed, yet Loki could see the equal shock in her eyes.

“Frigga-er, Allmother...Eir...” Sleipnir's voice was faint with wonder and shock.

But before he could say anything else, Loki watched as Frigga hurried forward, Huugin squawking his protest as he tried to keep a precarious grip on the Allmother's shoulder. He felt a sudden pull of worry, but ruthlessly quashed it as the Allmother boldly picked Sleipnir up from the floor, and gently brushed the dust off of the shoulders of his Midgardian military uniform. The Allfather had not reacted, had not even moved a single inch and if he was not worried for the Queen, then Loki had no reason to do so – except the remnant worry of the woman who had raised him from childhood. Instead, he tightened his grip on his glaive, ignoring the feeling of Jormungandr slithering his way up the base, curling around his hand before wrapping himself around his arm, a quiet hiss announcing his presence.

He watched as the Allmother gripped Sleipnir's arms tightly, staring deep into his face, her eyes tracing him with an affection that Loki had only witnessed between her and Odin. It was disconcerting to say the least and flicked a look to Odin to see him holding himself still, but caught the undercurrent of _something_ there that he had never seen before. Was it...jealousy? Concern? A dismissive sort of concern that he mistook for jealousy?

“You've aged beautifully, Lady Frigga,” Sleipnir murmured quietly and Loki saw Frigga's cheeks color ever so slightly before the corner of her lips turned upward as she finished her inspection and stepped back. She nodded as she released Sleipnir and looked at Odin.

“There was no body,” she said quietly. “Even Hel,” she faltered a little, “even Hel said she could not see him in the days following...”

Loki blinked once. Hel? As in Lady Hel of Helheim, the Queen of the unjudged dead? The same Hel that had freed Fenrir and Jormungandr from their prisons two years ago and was only punished with what had been a somewhat light sentence? That same Hel of his coterie? He opened his mouth to demand more information before closing it abruptly when his mother turned and smiled a bit sadly at him. He could read the open apology in her eyes, the understanding that he had questions, and he gritted his teeth together, ignoring her compassion and understanding that she was trying to convey to him.

“Let me see him, Frigga,” Eir interrupted the moment and Frigga allowed the chief healer to replace her, taking a few steps back, but nonetheless kept a faint smile on her face.

“You have not aged much, boy,” Eir had taken Sleipnir's chin in one hand and was moving his head back and forth in a gentle manner as she examined him. Her other hand was held up and Loki saw the brief flash of magicks flare in it at the same time Sleipnir visibly flinched from her grip, stumbling back a step-

Loki could feel the hum of an encircling spell ready at his fingertips-

And just as suddenly Sleipnir held his hands up, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I- I...I didn't, I did not mean to- I...I-I c-can't...please-” He swallowed and looked around him as he took a tentative step back, icy blue eyes wild with unadulterated fear before he shook his head at Eir whose hand was still raised, the uncast spell lingering on her palms. Munnin on her shoulder perch had leaned forward as if he was about to try to launch an attack on Sleipnir when he had moved. Sleipnir shook his head again, “I am so sorry Eir...p-please...it...it has been so... _long_ since I felt...” He swallowed audibly, “He kept me deprived of magicks for so many thousands of years that...you...you startled me...that was all...”

“Who,” Odin stepped forward, his lips thin and it was only later that Loki realized he had never seen such a cold furious anger in the Allfather's eyes, not even during the whole debacle with Thanos on the Rainbow Bridge, nor on the icy wastelands of Jotunheim when he had disobeyed the Allfather's orders. “Who did this?” the Allfather demanded with a quiet furious hiss.

Sleipnir's expression crumpled as he shook his head, “Baldr, Odin...Baldr...he's...he's alive...”

* * *

“Should we not return, Loki? The feast is about to start,” Jormungandr's voice spoke up behind him over the rhythmic musical clip-clop of the horses' feet on the Rainbow Bridge.

Loki ignored Jormungandr's question as he saw the golden splendor of the Observatory rise up in greeting as they got nearer. He saw the small figure in resplendent gold-silver armor waiting for them at the mouth of the Observatory to the Bifrost as if expecting them. But then again, Heimdall saw everything, and they had been riding at the slowest walking pace the horses were able to bear before rebelling.

“Loki-”

“The feast is of no concern. The guest of honor is there and we won't be missed,” he cut Jormungandr off with a look to which the former healer only huffed in annoyance, seemingly burrowing into himself before remembering that he was not in his serpentine form and instead, was once more human. The only reason why he was back in his human form instead of the punished serpentine form the Allfather had forced him into two years ago was because the horses did not like snakes. The Allfather had not said anything the first time Loki had released Jormungandr from his serpentine form, but the rest of the Court and even Thor for the rare times he had been on Asgard in the past two years, had been shocked. Loki considered leaving Jormungandr in his human form, but also knew that it would be inviting the Allfather to reproach him or worst, hand down another punishment even though he had technically not been involved in his coterie's revival. Loki did not want to chance it – knowing that the Allfather knew he had not escaped punishment for what had happened two years ago by virtue of having taken Jormungandr's core into his own to heal himself.

“Then what are we doing here?” Jormungandr asked, but Loki ignored him again as he got off of his horse and let it wander over to nibble a greeting to Jormungandr's horse.

“Prince Loki,” Heimdall greeted neutrally, his golden eyes boring straight into him to which Loki only returned with a slight thin-lipped smile. The golden eyes slid off of him as he looked beyond him, “Jormungandr.”

“Guardian,” Jormungandr replied in careful neutral greeting.

“No need to be so formal on my account,” Loki glanced back between the two and saw Jormungandr shift uncomfortably before nodding and a small smile appeared on the young man's lips, his icy blue eyes glittering with a contentment that Loki rarely saw.

“You saw?” Jormungandr glanced at him and Loki shrugged and did not answer as he moved past Heimdall, entering the Observatory. He was aware that the times Jormungandr was not by his side, he was at the Observatory, the greatest repository for magick energies outside of the heavily secured defenses of Asgard itself. As a magickal creature who had his very core flayed from him, Jormungandr sought comfort in the presence of anything imbued with magick – more often than not it was on Loki's work spaces or on himself from the spells tingling around him as he did his work. Sometimes it was on furniture that retained unusual magicks, like Odin's throne, but the Observatory had one of the highest concentrations – built by the Tesseract and weaved by Asgard's contingent of battlemages. Even Loki had been drawn towards the skeins and weaves of such powerful magick, but since he had his core, he did not quite understand what Jormungandr felt, but could somewhat relate to it after his fall from the Bifrost four years ago.

It was only natural that Jormungandr would find some comfort in spending time in the Observatory, letting the ripples and skeins of magick flow around him, basking and trying to absorb it through osmosis – to fill the emptiness inside that was related to the loss of his core. Apparently Loki had long surmised that Jormungandr had perhaps befriended or had even talked to Heimdall in the times he was at the Observatory. But the fact that Jormungandr had considered Loki's own feelings regarding Heimdall and tried to keep a polite distance would have normally touched him if it did not readily annoy him. He did _not_ need consideration like that. It only served as an infantile weakness and idiotic attempts to soothe imagined slights.

He heard Jormungandr hum a tuneless song as he walked deeper into the Observatory, stopping for a moment to stare at the activation point before glancing towards where the transportation site was. He wondered if it was pointed at Midgard, ready to bring Thor back from Midgard on the Allfather's orders once more. What Sleipnir had said seemed to indicate it as such, but surprisingly the Allfather had not given the order.

_Loki knew he was missing something significant and the flash of annoyance that passed through him was not relieved when he saw Odin shake his head vehemently in denial. His annoyance though, sparked into slight alarm at the furious anger he heard in the Allfather's next words._

_“You lie. I saw him die! I-”_

_“Allfather, Odin, I do not lie. I...” Sleipnir swallowed again as he looked at him, Frigga, and Eir, “I- He...he made me his familiar. That...that is why I did not age as rapidly or as normally as you have.” The red-haired man turned to Eir, “Please, Eir, you can check, you can scan. I'll...I will let you do so...just-”_

_Odin made a swift cutting motion with his hand and Eir nodded jerkily before moving forward again, her hand crackling a little with the magicks of her spell before she placed her other one gently on Sleipnir's shoulder. The man was trembling in fear and seemed to stop himself from shying away as she placed her hand right above his chest, almost touching, but not quite._

_“Breathe, boy, breathe. It will not hurt...” Eir's voice was soothing like whenever she dealt with her patients in the healing ward. Sleipnir nodded once before closing his eyes, his fists clenching and releasing as he forced himself to breathe in and out in a steady rhythm as the spell flared in Eir's hands for a few seconds before she stepped back and the other man sagged visibly, and opened his eyes, looking for a second so horribly broken._

_Loki gritted his teeth at the look, wanting to look away, unable to stand the expression, but a part of him was utterly disgusted by it. It was so... He forced himself to relax a little as he felt Jormungandr's body tighten around his upper arm in response before the snake also relaxed and flicked its tongue out, tasting the air._

_“His core is gone, Allfather,” Eir looked at Sleipnir with a compassionate gaze and Loki saw the older man drop his head a little in shame. “Shredded. Whence there used to be magick, there is none now. I felt the threads of age, of remnants of magick and the presence of another is forced unnaturally in there, but it has dissipated. There is definite spellwork cast about him, but those too have begun to fade. I can feel the tugs of servitude, but it seems almost...alive in an unusual sense... He is who he claims to be, Allfather.”_

_“Baldr is_ not _alive,” Odin whispered angrily, his voice seemingly booming off the pillars and walls of the throne room._

_“Odin-”_

_“I_ held _him as he died in my arms, Sleipnir,” Odin growled out, “He died. You saw it as well as I did when_ he _\- when he slewed him. When-”_

_“When we took our revenge. We took it and-”_

_“-you_ fell _. You-”_

_“-And you became Allfather,” Sleipnir finished quietly, looking up at Odin who had walked closer, Gungnir still gripped tightly in his hand, but there was something different in the Allfather's expression, “at least something good came of it...”_

_“Baldr's dead...”_

_“Baldr's alive,” Sleipnir started again, taking a step forward into Gungir's physical range, “on Midgard all these years. I did not, and still do not know how he survived after...after what had happened, but I would never lie, Odin. He...he was the one who bestowed the status of a familiar to me in order to save my life after...well, after the darkness, the incomprehensible void-” There was something distant in Sleipnir's icy blue eyes that Loki recognized and silently revolted against, a shuddering twitch that seemed to shake the other man like a leaf on the wind before he came back to himself. The niggling sense that he should_ know _what was happening was gnawing at him and it annoyed him to no end. But he could not, for the life of the Norns, understand what it was or why. Something about what Sleipnir was saying was utterly familiar, yet so bizarrely not that Loki could not quite wrap his head around._

_And that in of itself made him suspicious of Sleipnir._

_“Munnin,” the Allfather suddenly snapped and the raven perched on Eir's shoulder flapped his wings hastily, “send word to Heimdall that he is to search for Baldr-”_

_“He lives as Vasily Karpov,” Sleipnir supplied before the raven took off, headed towards the Observatory. The man smiled faintly, “It pleases me to hear that Heimdall took up his post after everything. And Munnin...” He turned to look at the raven perched on Frigga's shoulder, staring at him with beady black eyes. Surprisingly, Huugin had been utterly silent since arriving, not even a cackling caw as he was wont to do in any situation. Loki did not know the history of Odin's familiars, but now he wondered based on what Sleipnir said, were they too once human? Perhaps one of the members of the other realms forced into an animal form like Jormungandr and turned into familiars? It would not be a stretch to think so._

_“Huugin?” Sleipnir guessed and the raven cawed softly as if affirming his guess._

_“They are my familiars,” Odin whispered and Sleipnir's expression turned a little sour, but he nodded, “it was the only way to save them after...”_

_“You do not need to justify your actions, Allfather,” Sleipnir said and Loki's eyes widened at the same time he heard the rustle of cloth from the guards that had remained. Even Frigga and Eir both looked shocked at the presumption, the sheer incomprehensible fact of what Sleipnir implied. At the same time, it seemed that the man realized what he was saying before he coughed and opened his mouth to apologize-_

_“Your lapse is forgiven in absence of your presence for the last few thousand of years,” Odin replied just as mildly, “but you would do well to remember who stands upon the throne.”_

_“I apologize Allfather,” Sleipnir bowed his head a little, “forgive me. I...it has been long since-”_

_“Why return now? If this Vasily Karpov, this Baldr is your master, why are you here,” Loki did not know what compelled him to speak, but he met Sleipnir's sharp look with a tilted look of his own. The others, Odin included seemed to remember that he was still there, ever in the shadows, as they looked at him. But he kept his gaze on Sleipnir, watching as something seem to flit across the man's icy blue eyes – oddly hauntingly familiar as if he had seen those eyes before – before the auburn-haired man bowed to him._

_“My Prince,” Sleipnir greeted respectfully before lifting his head back up, “I was not sent by Baldr. I escaped the moment he gave me the power to do so. Even now, I can feel the tugs in which he wishes to summon me back, but I am glad that he only gave me enough power to walk the shadows of Yggdrasil once. Save for demanding Heimdall send me back by Bifrost, it is a saving grace that I cannot do anything else.”_

_“Convenient,” Loki was not convinced and Sleipnir smiled a little._

_“Your son takes after you, Allfather,” the other man said and Loki bristled. He was_ nothing _like the Allfather. Odin was a man who never spoke what he thought, who put Thor, the precious Crown Prince, ahead of everything else- Had_ lied _to him about his parentage; that he was a Frost Giant, monster, Jotun, the stuff of nightmares-_

_“He is as unique as his own,” the Allfather replied mildly and Loki shot a look at him, which was ignored before glaring at Sleipnir who seemed a little surprise at his look._

_“I...uh, I seemed to have said something-”_

_“Such slights are only as imagined as your addled mind on the planet of fools you have claimed to have lived on for thousands of years,” he replied, acid in his tone, and saw Sleipnir's expression close before he nodded sharply and bowed his head again._

_“That is true, my Prince,” the other man said in a neutral voice, and Loki had the feeling that whatever hurt he had inflicted, Sleipnir had buried his own feelings deep instead of obstinately showing it for all to see. Curious..._

_“My master-er, Baldr, had sent me to disrupt the Avengers in his latest scheme. We learned of Thor's existence a few years ago when the Chitauri attacked New York, but we only knew as much as the intelligence agency SHIELD had kept on file for the Crown Prince. We knew of you, my Prince, but I did not believe that you were whom you claimed to be until now. Baldr schemed as the mortal Vasily Karpov to take over HYDRA, one of the enemies of SHIELD after its dissolution a year ago.”_

_So it was true, what he had suspected when Thor started to spend more time on Midgard. He had no doubts that it was because of his precious Lady Jane, but more because to protect her when SHIELD could no longer do so as well as to fight with the mortal Avengers. Though he did not readily concern himself with the affairs of Midgard, he had been rather curious to see how the realm fared after his naive attempt to conquer it. Naive for him because in hindsight, it was a pathetic waste of his time and resources._

_“Then why escape now?” he look pointedly at Sleipnir_

_“Because Baldr expected to capture the Crown Prince and have me walk the two of them through the shadows to Asgard,” Sleipnir replied, his voice and gaze steady and unblinking on him. He turned his head slightly to Odin, “Allfather, it was Baldr who conceived of the plan years ago, and Baldr who risked everything to gain your throne. Your elder brother was not mad to slay him, for it is my belief that he might had had an inkling of what was to come. Odin, Baldr wants the throne, and he will do everything in his power to get it.”_

A loud crash behind Loki made him tear his gaze and thoughts from the vast starlight that always lead to nothing- to see Jormungandr tripping over his feet and falling to the ground before picking himself up. Already, two years since, and the young mage had adapted to his serpentine form better than his human one. He ignored the healer's antics and clasped his hands behind his back, “Tell me, Guardian, how is it that you could not have seen Sleipnir or even this Baldr until now?”

“I have yet to spy Baldr, my Prince,” Heimdall replied a little testily, his golden eyes boring into him. “But if it is truly him, then either he has learnt magicks that hide him from my gaze,” the Guardian stared at him shrewdly as if to associate him with the same magicks that had allowed Loki to cloak the Jotuns four years ago during Thor's coronation, “or it was very likely he cast an illusion upon himself that has not drawn my gaze for the duration of my watch.”

“It is a wonder that you claim to protect the realms when you do not espy all the individuals on the realms,” Loki shot back and saw Heimdall bristle at the insult, but did not respond when he knew that the Guardian wanted to.

“I watch those that would bring harm and danger to Asgard and the other realms, _my Prince_ ,” he finally said after a few minutes and Loki snorted quietly, “or those of great import that is of concern to the House of Odin.”

“Ah, yes...mortals,” he walked aimlessly back and forth and gave Heimdall a thin-lipped smile that did not reach his eyes. Behind Heimdall, Jormungandr was absently holding his hands up to pluck at the skeins and weaves, his eyes closed in a blissful contentment. “Brief candled lives that flicker only for a heartbeat. They mean no harm in the realms. So why should you care for their individual greatness and lives that they have lived. Surely those of Muspelheim or Vanir have more pressing concerns-”

“You have great care for the mortals, my Prince,” though one could not even hear the sarcasm in Heimdall's words, Loki stopped his ambling pace as he glared at the Guardian. _He_ certainly heard the thinly veiled sarcasm and only chuckled bitterly before getting to his point.

“Sleipnir, Heimdall,” he stated and saw the Guardian tilt his head to the side in acknowledgment, the attempt at pleasantries all but over. Loki had not forgiven Heimdall for betraying his trust while he was regent nor had Heimdall forgiven him for freezing him with the Casket of Ancient Winters. There were many other small slights before that, but it was something that made the two almost avoid each other whenever they were near. Thus Loki rarely traveled via Bifrost since his return to Asgard three years ago, preferring to use the paths through the shadows of the void.

“A good friend and competent battlemage,” Heimdall replied, “certainly for naught as his mentor and teacher was the Crown Prince himself-”

“What can the Allfather know-”

“-Not Odin, but his older brother, your namesake,” Heimdall replied, moving to stand by his watchful position, facing the stars. Loki paused and noticed that Jormungandr did the same, open shock on the young healer's face. He looked at Heimdall whose golden eyes were focused on the starlight, a wistful, yet somewhat melancholic expression on his face. “You were named after Odin's older brother Loki, when you were brought from the wastelands of Jotunheim.”

“You knew...” Loki had long wondered if Heimdall had known he had been a Jotun babe, stolen from the temple he had been left to die after – if King Helblindi's tale was true – he had shown inklings of magick that was in a society who shunned and killed any who showed it.

Heimdall ignored his statement and continued, “Crown Prince Loki was Sleipnir's teacher, mentor, and confidant. Sleipnir was to become his Sentinel, his right hand, until the Crown Prince slew the youngest of the House of Bor, Baldr, his and Odin's youngest brother. Odin retaliated and slew Loki with the help of Sleipnir and the others before taking up the position of Allfather from Bor after his passing in the ensuing battle.”

Again, just like when he had been in the throne room, Loki had the niggling sense that he was missing something, that he should know this because it had been told to him before. But he could not quite pinpoint when and where and pushed the feeling aside. Instead, he focused on Heimdall's words and realized something. “You were there...”

“I was,” Heimdall inclined his head once, “and helped deliver the cleaving blow that ended the Crown Prince's life. We had thought Sleipnir lost in the aftermath, the Crown Prince taking him with him as he died, but-”

“Here he is...”

“Here he is...” Heimdall agreed, “and-” He suddenly frowned and leaned forward a little, eyes narrowing for a long second before he drew back sharply.

Loki only raised an eyebrow at the Guardian's actions before he saw a look of puzzlement flit across his face. “Perhaps there was merit to Sleipnir's tale...I thought I saw Baldr...” the Guardian leaned forward again, his gaze intent and focused as he peered through starlight and just when the silence was a little too oppressive Heimdall's eyes widened minutely.

“Crown Prince Thor has disappeared.”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes:**  
>  Readers of my previous stories know that I occasionally mentally cast actors in roles to give a visual frame of reference. Readers of Coterie know that I've cast Colin Morgan as Jormungandr. Sleipnir is no different – I've mentally cast Damian Lewis in the role. I do have a criteria for casting actors in roles – they must not have been associated with a very well-known Marvel or DC role, nor any future roles (so that rules out Benedict Cumberbatch, James McAvoy, Michael Fassbender, and Christian Bale...sigh).
> 
>  **Cliffnotes on _Frozen in Time_ (since there are readers out there not inclined to go through a very long story – I understand...):**  
>  \- Thor's political standing on Asgard is kind of in jeopardy – he is beloved by the people, but the Court thinks he spends too much time attending to Midgard instead of the welfare of all nine realms. Thor personally does not see the problem.  
> \- After Alexander Pierce's demise, HYDRA is run by Baron von Strucker. However, while Strucker does exists, but is being mind-controlled by Vasily Karpov from the shadows with Loki's sceptre that he left behind two years ago (as evidenced in CA:TWS movie stinger). It's revealed that Karpov orchestrated a lot of the behind-the-scenes regarding the Winter Soldier Project as well as Natasha Romanov's Red Room, and also the creation of both Bucky's vibranium-kevlar arm as well as Steve's vibranium shield – which he claims has unique magical properties.  
> \- Karpov had Tony and Sam captured and sent Sleipnir disguised as Baron von Strucker to obstinately lure Bucky to be re-captured – his “weapon” so to speak. The Avengers, being who they were, decided the confront it head-on and rescue their friends, but realized it was a trap to ultimately capture Thor and Mjolnir. The Avengers don't realize this until the very end when Thor attacks them before disappearing with Karpov and the Chitauri sceptre.  
>  **Note:** This is just kind of a bare minimum summation – there are some details I've left out, but I don't think they will be missed since I will be touching on some of those points throughout this story - but it does lend a different perspective, especially regarding Steve towards Bucky and how he muses it relates to Thor and Loki's relationship. Also, please do note that once we get more into the Avengers side of things, _Frozen in Time_ and the events that happened in there will be referenced, but also summarized in a more narrative format. I do recommend at least reading the epilogue to _Frozen in Time_ so you know how much time has passed since Thor's disappearance and Loki's eventual appearance on Earth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

“What,” Loki was inwardly surprised at how calm he sounded was while he tried to process what Heimdall said.

“I cannot see him,” for all of his stoicism and unflappable demeanor, Loki had never heard Heimdall's voice waver, the small thrill of fear-borne puzzlement in it – much like he had never heard Odin's voice so shaken earlier in the morning. Today was a day of firsts and somehow, he did not like it. It did not feel right, did not feel natural. He somehow wanted it to be _him_ that caused the unnatural, the God of Chaos as had been one of his monikers. For some odd reason, hearing both Heimdall and Odin sound so... _mortal_ for the lack of a better term- He shook his head a little, covering it by walking up to where Heimdall was standing by the edges and resolutely vowed not to look down into the black abyss of nothing- The screams that had strangled his voice- Icy blue eyes that promised infinite pain- He _fell_ -

“I saw mountains bathed in Mjolnir's power before it was suddenly extinguished by a flash of blue,” Heimdall said softly, a frown on his face as his golden eyes stared intently on a fixed point that Loki could not see beyond the mass of starlight and the passing of dusty dark nursery star clouds that hid parts of Asgard from the unwanted eyes of the other races beyond the realms' borders. “The Crown Prince did not raise his weapon and for a second, I thought I saw him talking with someone. Someone I could not see...until he was cloaked in shadow...”

Heimdall abruptly closed his mouth, his frown becoming even more pronounced and he looked like he was about to say more before he turned his head slightly and Loki looked back to see a young man dressed in the outfit of a Court page bow his head. There was nothing extraordinary about the young page, but Loki could not put his finger on what bothered him about the page with dark dirty blond hair and light eyes until he realized that it was his outfit. It was completely matte black with an occasional sheen of shiny black. That was not what the pages of either the domestic or realm court wore. There were faint designs on the outfit too, catching in the ambient light of the golden Observatory that looked like...feathers... Most telling was that the page's body was facing them, but he occasionally turned his head to glare at Jormungandr who had frozen, hands still half-way up when he had been plucking the skeins at the domed edges of the Observatory. Jormungandr had a petulant frown on his face, but looked like he was trying to ignore the looks the page was throwing at him.

“Munnin,” Heimdall called out, bringing the page's head back towards them and Loki blinked, hiding his surprise.

He had long heard rumors that those who physically became familiars instead of the spellwork to summon a spirit-like familiar, taking the shape of whatever the caster wished, retained their humanoid forms. But even their humanoid forms had been limited and rarely used. Jormungandr was technically _not_ his familiar, just punished and forced into his serpentine-form by Odin due to his actions two years ago. Loki knew that there was spellwork involved that bound a familiar to the command of its master, but had not invoked it after Fury had given him Jormungandr in the aftermath. He supposed that he was merely content to see if Jormungandr would break away in rebellion again or pretend to stay close enough to strike once more. Binding him as a true familiar was a waste of his time and magicks.

But the fact that the young black-clad page who stood before him was Munnin, and _not_ in raven form... It begged the question as to why the Allfather allowed him to retain his human form when none of the Court nor anyone, save perhaps Heimdall – judging by how he knew it was Munnin – had ever seen the ravens out of their animal form. Even now, Loki thought of them as ravens and studying the young page, perhaps looking only a couple of hundred of years younger than he, wondered why they were in human form.

“Sleipnir is acclimating somewhat,” Munnin shrugged as if it did not concern him and Loki could see bits of the aloof raven in the young man's countenance. It was...a bit disconcerting to say the least, but he kept his face passive and body in a disaffected manner. “Huugin is relating him exploits and tales for the Courtiers to feast upon.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki caught what could have been a brief smile on the corner of Heimdall's lips and had the distinct mental image of Huugin and his continuous cawing and cackling as the raven was wont to do whenever not delivering the Allfather's summons or reporting back what it had observed. “The Court must be fascinated,” Loki said dryly, wondering what Huugin's human form looked like compared to Munnin's.

“Very few remember us,” Munnin's light eyes turned towards him and he was struck at how eerily similar they were to their raven forms, as if they knew and understand what he was implying. And he realized to a certain extent, the ravens _had_ known, considering they had human forms. They understood _everything_ and probably saw almost _everything_. Munnin's gaze told him that he was not fooled for one second by his attempt to hide his surprise at his appearance, but also told him that he did not care one whit about it.

“The Court must also be beside themselves,” Loki arched an eyebrow and saw the faint hint of reaction from Munnin, the barest acknowledging of his head and realized it reminded him of when the raven tilted its head, its animal equivalent of laughter. He also realized that Munnin, and probably Huugin too, had been in their animal forms for so long that they had almost all but forgotten how to express themselves in their human bodies. Curious and interesting as he glanced beyond the human-raven to Jormungandr who had lowered his hands and was looking a bit nervous as he shifted from foot to foot, staring at Munnin. Considering that Jormungandr had initially tripped on his own feet and had not had much time to be in his serpentine form, he wondered if there was some animal instinct that took over whenever they were in their animal form for long periods – as if they had all but forgotten how to be human.

“News,” Munnin asked in a flat tone, turning his light-eyed gaze on the Guardian who nodded solemnly.

“The Crown Prince has disappeared. I cannot see him in my gaze, but before he disappeared, I saw him talking with someone, but that person was cloaked in shadow, as if he knew my gaze was upon him,” Heimdall intoned and Munnin tilted his head, staring at the Guardian with unblinking eyes.

“Shadow,” he stated and Loki bristled a little at the unsubtle implication of that statement. Munnin was still as blunt as if he was a raven, human or not. But before he could counter the human-raven's statement Heimdall nodded again.

“It may be Baldr as Sleipnir claimed, but I do not know. I could not see,” the Guardian replied and Loki once again, felt like there was a big piece he was missing – that he should have known something of this conversation, that the names were familiar if not the type of spellwork.

Apparently whomever Heimdall saw, this Baldr or whatever, was capable of cloaking him in shadow. He knew it was significant only because there were not many who were able to do that, and Loki knew for a fact where he had learned that particular spellwork from. A thought occurred to him; perhaps his teacher would be amiable to a conversation about her other students. Maybe this Baldr, or if it was not Baldr, was a failed student of hers, or perhaps someone whom her daughter had taken a shine to – he was not blind to know that Hel was fickle with her affections – if they really could be called that considering she ruled over the realm of the unjudged dead. Odin had said that Baldr had died in his arms, so perhaps Hel would know whom this Baldr was that the Allfather had revered so much and had utterly terrified Sleipnir. Loki did not miss the tremble of fear that had permeated his voice when he had spoken of him after his arrival.

The only problem he could see with this was Heimdall and the Allfather. Requesting permission to travel to Helheim was most certainly to be met with suspicion from the Allfather, even in a private audience sans the gossiping Court. Traveling through the shadows of Yggdrasil and cloaking himself to meet with Hel was also out of the question as he knew that Heimdall kept a strict eye on Lady Hel in the aftermath of the coterie's second attempt at insurrection. Heimdall would never falter in his duties as the watchman of Asgard ever again, especially when Hel was concerned.

There was another way to bypass Hel all together to see his teacher, her mother Lady Death, but it required stepping from the shadowed pathways of Yggdrasil and the last time Loki did that Thanos had been there to receive him... Even though Thanos was safely imprisoned in the Tesseract, Loki had no real inclination of enacting _that_ extreme of a measure all to get information from his former teacher.

So the next best option was to do his own research. Asking Queen Frigga would be an option except he had a feeling that she would not be so forthcoming considering her reaction to the day's events. The fact that Thor had all but disappeared from Heimdall's gaze was a bit of concern for him, but Loki was far more concerned about the caster of such a spell than of why Thor had disappeared. Thor was capable of defending himself and was most likely somewhere on Midgard, just away from Heimdall's gaze.

“As you wish, Guardian,” Munnin's short curt bow was suddenly belied by him turning into a raven with a quiet popping sound and flying out of the Observatory. As soon as the raven flew away, Jormungandr let out an audible sigh before clearing his throat and looking sheepishly at them.

“You would do well to heed the authority of commands, Jormungandr,” Heimdall said and Loki saw the young black-haired man nod, looking chastised before bowing slightly to him.

“Your absence at the feast may have been noticed, my Prince,” he suggested quietly before leaving the Observatory to wait with the horses.

Loki flicked a look at Heimdall who only stared after Jormungandr's retreating form with an unreadable gaze and knew that the Guardian would not answer what had transpired between Munnin and Jormungandr. He knew that the ravens always stared at at Jormungandr whenever he was in his serpentine form, but had always thought that it was perhaps more predator-prey, than anything else. Judging by what had happened, he was wrong, but at the same time he did not exactly care of the opinions between the two. It was more than likely due to Jormungandr's actions two years previous that probably drew the ire of the ravens and for that matter, it was Jormungandr's fault.

Seeing that he would probably get no more from Heimdall, Loki made to leave when the Guardian spoke up, his voice quiet.

“Sleipnir was a good man,” he intoned and Loki caught the wording of his statement and paused, turning his head a little, but still faced away from Heimdall.

He smiled shallowly as he tilted his head in acknowledgment, completely understanding the wordplay the Guardian had surprisingly given him. The fact that the two of them never saw eye-to-eye and combined with the wariness of mistrust from recent events, Heimdall was still intelligent enough to see things that some would be blind to. Heimdall had been, was still, a threat to Loki as far as he was concerned, but for now, there was a mutual understanding to what he said. There was something afoot that neither of them could see, but it seemed Heimdall knew that Loki was perhaps the only one able to find the answers needed to whatever mystery was started.

* * *

“Your absence was noted at the feast,” Loki was not surprised at the sound of her voice as he looked carefully through the hundreds of titles on the old tomes in one corner of the library within Asgard's palace walls.

“Noticed, but not commented upon, per usual,” he replied as he reached up and traced a title, squinting for a second, trying to remember if this was the one he had read on a footnote from another tome. Pursing his lips in disappointment, he brushed past the tome and read the next one before plucking it off of the shelf and set it against his other hand and opened it.

“Could you not take solace in the fact that your absence was noted?” she sounded a little annoyed and Loki snorted softly.

“Sif, my absence is always noted and greeted with a sigh of relief,” he said, releasing the spellwork to lower himself to the ground with an absent wave of his hand. He found the passage he was looking for and bookmarked it with a finger before shutting the tome and carried it with his hand.

“Is that what you think?” he saw Sif waiting by the start of the shelves, her arms crossed in annoyance.

“You think no less when I decline your half-hearted requests to join the others in the training salle when Thor has gone to Midgard for weeks on end,” Loki commented mildly as he brushed past her and placed the tome on the table he had been sitting at, opening it up to the page he had saved with his finger. He noted Jormungandr already eating from the plate of food that Sif must have dropped off, his body dis-intended a bit from swallowing what looked like part of a boar flank that had been cut. The snake was now slithering up the stem of a cup and drinking the wine.

“That is not true-”

“You, my dear Sif, may have more sympathy to try to include me in your training since, but the others do not care and like times of old, would have not begrudged me to come _train_ with you in Thor's absence,” he waved an absent hand at her as he plucked a smaller piece of meat from the plate and ate it. He looked up to see her standing by the table, her lips pressed into a thin line and he knew he had hit the truth with her.

“You twist my words and intentions,” she replied gesturing to the plate of food, “not even a thank you for ensuring you do not _starve_ to death while you work.”

“Thank you,” Loki replied insincerely and Sif rolled her eyes and growled under her breath.

“For the love of the Norns, I do not know why I put up with you-”

“You are free to leave,” Loki interjected with a thin smile and Sif glared at him. His smile grew a little wider at her abrupt movement to leave before she turned back around and shook her head.

“You are not a _child_ anymore Loki. You wish to be King? You wish the respect?! Then _act_ like you want it,” Sif said acidly, a mirthless smile on her face, “otherwise-”

“Your precious beloved Thor will always be King, Sif,” Loki shot back, his calm mood evaporating in light of her words, “a thousand years of reputation precedes me and cannot be changed so quickly. I was always Thor's shadow and even you knew that. Paltry words to try to soothe a wound that has long festered will not get you anywhere.”

“Who said anything about soothing a wound, Loki?” Sif stopped and turned to face him and Loki started, surprised, before the curl of a smile appeared on his lips. He loved it when Sif tried to fight back, to turn his words against him and this latest one was refreshing to say the least, aside from her previous attempts. It had been a long time, not even counting the time she had been 'bidden' to watch him, since she had that much hate, that much anger or focus in her wordplay.

And he realized, something was riling her up to act this way. Something bothered her because she had long ignored him or only made half-hearted attempts to fight back with her words since the breaking of his coterie hundreds of years ago. Actually, the last time he had this much of a fight with her was during their brief moment of physical companionship in the aftermath of the coterie, before they mutually decided to end it.

“Why _are_ you here, Sif?” he asked, “surely for naught of even a single event that I have done to earn your wrath and ire.”

“You've always earned my ire,” Sif replied a bit dryly before heaving a deep sigh and took a step back towards him, “Sleipnir.”

“Seems to be a popular topic today, even in the dead of night,” he was aware of the sandpaper feeling behind his eyes. He had been up before the Court was in session in the early morning to now in the library when the rest of Asgard was asleep except for the drunken rabble at taverns and the like.

“What did you find?” she asked and Loki arched an eyebrow.

“Barring the presumptuousness of that statement-”

“Loki, I know you,” Sif interrupted again, her eyes flashing with an emotion that he could not quite identify, “there are two places you are most likely to be found if not in Court or near the Allfather's side biding your silent case to be Heir presumptive. Your rooms with your experiments or in the library.”

Loki frowned a little, but before he could get a word in edgewise, Sif continued, “You hide when you do not want to be found. When you are afraid-”

“I am _not_ afraid-”

“-When you...you have not set forth to the other realms like you used to,” Sif pursed her lips tightly and Loki narrowed his eyes.

“Those were always at Thor's biding, his...adventures, and I have no need to hide behind his _shadow_ like some errand boy destined to ride on his coattails,” Loki replied a little testily, crunching angrily on a small nibble of food on his plate, “what I do is on my own-”

“And Asgard has noticed, Loki. Or have you not been observant during the feasts and the Courts?”

“And what would you know of the Courts? You, constantly _training_ with the Warriors Three, all because Lady Sif still thinks that she is of better birth than what her station has given her-”

“You have been hiding, Loki. Hiding for the past three years since you've returned. You only go to realms when the Allfather commands it, even Thor has extended invitations to Midgard-”

“Those mortals do not care, nor are of need for my help-”

“But you do not leave,” Sif overrode whatever else he was saying, “you hermit here, and the Court has noticed. Loki, why do you think there has been no talk of your exploits, even when you tried to destroy Jotunheim? Why do you think the battle against Thanos has not been spoken nor of your fight with your coterie on the Helicarrier?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki noted Jormungandr had frozen a little, hissing softly before going back to eating a few slices of apples. “The Allfather forbade it,” he replied; there was no other explanation.

“He might have,” Sif replied, but shook her head, “since when did that stop you? Since when did Loki the Trickster God obeyed the rules laid out before him?”

Loki froze mid-bite and slowly put down the food he was about to eat and stared up at Sif with an icy look. She knew very well, if not all of the implications of what had happened in the past few years for him to be acting the way he did. But never did he expect _her_ to use it in such a way. It stung and he stared at her, “Get. Out.”

She shook her head and crossed her arms again, “No.”

“Get out,” he replied softly, summoning a spell to throw at her for her insolence and comment.

“I will not-”

“Sif-”

“You must have seen the adoration the Allfather had for Sleipnir. Everyone could see it at the feast. You must have seen it and you felt _threatened_ by it. That's why you are down here in the library while the rest of Asgard sleeps. You do not know how to respond to that and so you want to know _everything_. Because you will not go against the Allfather after what happened with Thanos, because you wish his protection even with Thanos' imprisonment. But you do not trust Sleipnir and so you want to know about him so you can go to the Allfather with proof that this man...this man who had so suddenly dropped into the Court is _not_ who he claims to be.”

He had not realized she had moved closer to him and suddenly leaned across the table and stared him straight in the eye, “You are _jealous_ , Loki. So tell me, what did you find on Sleipnir?”

Loki stayed silent for a long moment before a faint smile appeared on his lips, “You think you know me so well Sif...” He saw her open her mouth and shook his head and tutted, “No. You have spoken your piece. I will give you the victory that you have spoken it well. It is to your credit to realize how much you have shown or not have shown in the past years. You are right, you know me well, know of my apparent habits or lack thereof. But do not presume that you know _everything_.”

Her glare told him that she would not even considered the schemes and plans going on in his head nor of anything else, but she only nodded in response. Loki wondered if she knew of the geas he had made with Thanos, but she had not even spoken a single word of it nor did it seem that Thor had told her about it. The Avengers knew of it, but even then, they truly did not know what it was to have a geas. Director Fury might have had an inkling, but it was only that. No, Loki hoped that if his fruitless research for the past two years was for naught in Asgard's libraries, he would ask the Allfather regarding it – but it would many years after memory had settled some of what had happened on the Rainbow Bridge.

The Bridge.

The Bridge...That was it! That was where he heard the names first spoken- He remembered the excruciating pain, the agony of the pull of commands, of forcing him to do things he did not want to do. He remembered the black stitches on his lips, the first thing Thanos had done when they had left the Helicarrier. It had felt like years when he had personally stabbed the needle through his skin and into his flesh, but it had been only a few minutes. He held up a hand to stop Sif from saying anything as he closed his eyes and searched his memories, trying to avoid the ones that reminded him of what had happened and forced himself to focus. He remembered mostly pain, but also remembered the tessellation he had, his plan, buried deep within, to stop Thanos-

Loki took a deep breath and forced himself to focus past that, the irony that he had been felled by Thanos himself in a last ditch effort to take him out with him. Past all of that and to before...

_The Mad Titan tilted his head and turned to look at Thor who was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything except breathe, “Look at him, Allfather, he knows nothing of what we speak. Allfather, are you so ashamed to have killed your own brother Loki who slayed Baldr before him that you dare not tell either of your sons, especially the one named after a long lost older brother, before you?”_

“Baldr was Odin's younger brother, and Loki...his older one,” he murmured absently, opening his eyes and grabbing one of the tomes in the small pile he had collected, pushing away the plate of food. Jormungandr hissed in surprise, but slithered over and stared with a curious reptilian look as he opened it up and started to flip through it. It made sense now, what Heimdall had said and also some of what Sleipnir said earlier in the throne room. He had skipped over the family tree in this particular tome only because he thought he knew what Heimdall meant, but perhaps it was something else.

“The Allfather was not the Crown Prince?” Sif blinked in surprise and Loki gave her a brief humorless smile.

“Surprised are we?”

“Um-”

“Here,” he stopped at the illuminated manuscript of the genealogy of the House of Bor, Odin's predecessor. Underneath Bor's name were three names, Loki, Odin, and Baldr. However, he noticed something odd about Baldr's name and saw that it had an additional dotted line and was a little lowered next to Loki and Odin's name, as if someone hastily fitted it into the manuscript. Loki's eyes traced over it before glancing down at Odin's own and saw that Thor's line was solid while his was dotted, but still equal to where Thor's name was. “Baldr was adopted...” he murmured quietly before looking back up at his namesake's name and saw that there was an additional line drawn downward to denote heirs. Except this one was dotted and Sleipnir's name was on it.

“Sleipnir was the Crown Prince's adopted son...” Sif murmured, also peering at the manuscript.

She absently moved her hand away as Jormungandr nudged at it and slithered over to look. It explained Heimdall's comment, but not why Heimdall had not easily said that Sleipnir was the Crown Prince's adopted son. But then again, the Guardian had stated that Sleipnir had helped Odin kill the Crown Prince after Baldr had been slain...or supposedly now if the red-haired man's words were true. Loki knew that a renouncement of that claim would have eliminated the line and Sleipnir's name from the royal house's line, but the fact that it was still in the tome and manuscript meant that it had not been renounced.

And judging by how fearful and serious Sleipnir was mentioning that Baldr was alive...something did not add up. “The obvious reason is that Sleipnir claims to have escaped Baldr only to seek revenge upon the father that had been slain.”

“Obvious?” Sif glanced at him, “is it not the truth? Would you not have killed those who had tried to kill Odin?”

“I did...” he gave her a look before shrugging, “Laufey.”

She pursed her lips together, irritated, “After you let them in.”

“A ruse, no doubt,” he shrugged again and saw her narrow her eyes, not believing his words for one second. He was a bit surprised that Thor had not babbled to his friends what had happened in the moments after he had killed Laufey before he had gone to the Bifrost to wipe out Jotunheim. Thor had certainly seen his deception back then, but the fact that Sif made no other comment to indicate she knew what else had transpired, accusations thrown in the Allfather's resting room, amongst other things, surprised him. It would have been readily easy for Thor to say such things, to bask in the grandeur that he had saved Jotunheim from Loki's hand at the heavy cost of the Bifrost, but had prevented the genocide of an entire race.

“Then why is it not obvious?” Sif asked and Loki smiled slightly. This was why he sometimes tolerated Sif, not because she always jumped like any other warrior to the obvious conclusion, especially whenever Thor was involved, but because she wanted to _know_ the reason why it was not obvious. The Warriors Three would not even deign to hear any other explanation except if it was coming from Odin himself, but Sif had at least some inkling of being a strategist. Breaking the expectation of the Court for a female warrior probably had something to do with it, but it at least showed Loki that she was still somewhat open minded about certain things – and mulishly bull-headed on others, especially in regards to the other races and magick.

“There is something that does not add up. For one thing, did Sleipnir mention anything about Baldr during the feast?” he asked, cursing inwardly that he did not go back to the feast as the others had suggested.

“Yes, but only in context of a tale from long past. The older members of the Court remember some of his exploits and wished the younger ones, the Warriors Three and I included to hear of them,” she replied.

“According to Sleipnir, Baldr is alive and on Midgard,” Loki said and saw Sif stiffen a little.

“We should warn Thor-”

“The idiotic fool can take care of himself,” Loki ignored her plea, even though the fact that Thor had all but disappeared from Heimdall's gaze disturbed at him. Heimdall had not even mentioned seeing a Vasily Karpov to which Sleipnir had mentioned being Baldr's name on Midgard. Then again, Sleipnir may have been lying, but to what end? Killing the Allfather right now would serve no purpose and for some odd reason, something about Sleipnir struck Loki as not really wanting to do that, considering how Eir, Frigga, and Odin had reacted. The sheer amount of adoration and of affection shown to someone whom suddenly just tore into existence in the throne room and not even a single one of them had batted an eye at the use of such magicks. He drew in a quick quiet breath...Sif had been right, he _was_ jealous.

What was it that Heimdall had said...the previous Crown Prince had been Sleipnir's mentor, teacher, and confidant. He was to be the Crown Prince's Sentinel, a title he had never heard of, nor ever seen it recorded anywhere. Then something happened and Baldr was supposedly killed, then Crown Prince Loki killed by Sleipnir and Odin. Sleipnir was a battlemage...and had said that his core was ripped out by Baldr which meant-

“Crown Prince Loki was a mage...as was Baldr...” he whispered, the realization that _magick_ existed in such form, existed in such _open_ form in Asgard long ago. In the present Asgard, magick so readily banned, if not so much not even spoken with reverence and awe and instead with a fearful hatred and unnatural dislike of it.

“Correction, my Prince,” the two of them turned in their chairs to see Sleipnir standing by the entrance to the library, a solemn expression on his face, “both the Crown Prince and Prince Baldr were magisters. The best of us...the strongest of us...”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More mental casting notes to pass along: Munnin (and also Huugin) in my head are played by Jamie Bell channeling a bit of Griffin from “Jumper.” I unfortunately had this cast long ago before I found out he was playing Ben Grimm/The Thing in the reboot of “The Fantastic Four,” later this year and don't quite have the heart to change it to another actor (plus eventually I want some weird reference/nod to “Snowpiercer” later in the story).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

“Both the Crown Prince and Baldr were magisters,” Sleipnir was leaning against the door to the library before he pushed off of it and stepped in, “they were the best and strongest of us.”

“Us?” Loki asked mildly, noting to his slight irritation that Sif had been unable to keep herself from jumping a little in surprise. He himself had certainly been caught off guard, having not even been able to _sense_ Sleipnir when he was well aware of everything around him. But he kept himself composed as he certainly expected people to be randomly appearing in the library – which truth be told, was what Sif had done earlier.

“The group of people, future advisers one might say, that the Allfather and his brothers collected in the years before his ascent to the throne,” Sleipnir made no note of Sif's movement and instead looked interested in the tomes scattered across the table Loki was at, “ah, history books and the like...” He cleared his throat slightly, “I...learned in so many words today at the feast of, um...about the use of magick nowadays.”

Loki only stared blankly at the older man who grimaced a little and absently picked up one of the smaller ones, flipping through it. “I supposed that it was the former Crown Prince's fault for Odin to enact the extreme measures that he did; all but outright forbidding magick or even to speak of it...” Sleipnir sighed, “I think nostalgia got the better of me and I wanted to see if the library held the lore from thousands of years past...I had not expected to find you up at this hour, my Prince, nor with your lady companion-”

Sif made a very unladylike scoffing noise in the back of her throat, making Sleipnir pause and look at her before looking at him as if trying to puzzle out something before he grimaced a little. “I, uh...apologize if I meant to imply if-”

“Obviously your grasp of Court politics has waned in the...what, hundreds, thousands of years of exile on....Midgard was it?” Loki drawled out softly, watching the red-haired man carefully. So far, Sleipnir seemed to play the innocence and guileless exile part well, but the fact that he could not sense him prickled at something _dangerous_ in him. There could be truth in the other man's words and actions that he truly had been at the mercy of Baldr, but the fact that he walked the shadows to get from Midgard to the throne room of Asgard of all places told Loki that Sleipnir was a person to watch. There was flecks of white in the auburn-red hair of Sleipnir, and his face was lightly lined with age, but Loki would have pegged Sleipnir to be no older than five-hundred years older than he.

Considering the limited knowledge he had on familiars, and based on Munnin's appearance, which was clearly younger than he - but had served the Allfather for much longer than he had been alive - there was at least some truth to Sleipnir as a familiar. Now whether it was for Baldr or someone else, that was another story.

Loki caught the slight flickering of something behind Sleipnir's icy blue eyes as he gently set the tome down, “You do not believe my tale.”

“It could be just a tale-”

“You believe me harm to Asgard or even to the House of Odin,” Sleipnir interrupted him before shaking his head and sighing quietly again, “and your tomes scatter across this table speak of it as much.”

“We did not-”

“I thank you, Lady Sif, for your attempt to dissuade me from the Prince's research here,” Sleipnir turned a thin smile on Sif who pinched her lips together in a frown. He turned back and Loki regarded him with a steady look. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jormungandr curl into a tight coiled ball, tongue flicking in and out, unsure as to whether to stay where he was or get ready to potentially attack the other man.

“I wanted to thank you for your vigilance,” Sleipnir looked restrained but earnest and gestured to a chair at the long table, “do you mind if I sit? I do not wish to convince you that I mean no harm, but wish to at least impart what has transpired to make you do this much research. I know because if I was a Sentinel, then this would be the first place I would be.”

Loki nodded as Sleipnir took the seat, leaving enough space of one chair in between them, as Sif spoke up, “Sentinel? I have never heard of that title...”

“Comparable to Heimdall's station as Guardian of the Realms. Except it is one given not to warriors, but to mages. The first line of defense of Asgard,” Sleipnir replied before tilting his head a little, “Lady Sif, I beg you to put aside your prejudices against magick-”

“I do not have any-”

Loki only shot a quick look at her from across the table and she fell silent before sitting down, arms crossed across her chest in annoyance.

“I at least _tolerate_ you...” she grumbled quietly and Jormungandr hissed quietly in laughter before she glared at the snake. “Not you, you stupid traitorous snake.”

“Ah...this must be Jormungandr,” Sleipnir looked at Jormungandr who flicked out his tongue, tasting the air before settling back on a coil, but Loki noted with some flickering remnant that may have been pride that the serpent was still tense, ready to attack. He himself kept his hands held in front of him, no magick tingling at his fingertips, but nonetheless ready in case Sleipnir did anything unexpected. Eir might have said that his core was ripped out, the borrowed magick to transport him from Midgard to Asgard all but gone, but the fact that Sleipnir explained what a Sentinel was told Loki enough – Sleipnir had once been trained in the warrior's arts. No one who claimed to be the first line of defense of Asgard was stupid enough to not be trained in some physical defense or offense when their primary skills failed them.

“Former Director Fury's notes of what had transpired on the treatise made two years previous made note of what happened to Jormungandr when he was brought for judgment on Asgard. There was also a footnote of his supposed imprisonment on Midgard itself hundreds of years previous, but no other information was noted in his report,” Sleipnir explained as he tapped a hand lightly on the table. The rhythm was indiscriminate, but it seemed to soothe him to an extent as he looked at Loki. “The organization SHIELD fell a year ago, taken down by Captain Rogers, or rather, Captain America, because it had been supposedly corrupted by it's rival organization HYDRA. Are you familiar-”

“Seventy years ago, HYDRA's leader Johann Schmidt had the Tesseract,” Loki explained, “located in Tønsberg, Norway.”

“HYDRA survived after the death of Schmidt,” the red-haired man shrugged, “but the truth was different. Baldr and I nurtured HYDRA even before Schmidt had taken over, so we were well aware of events happening. SHIELD fell, HYDRA rose, and all of the secrets and reports now in the public eye of the mortals.” His fingers absently made their way to the tome he had picked up earlier and now tapped his tuneless rhythm on it, “We learned a lot about the Avengers, about what the mortals think of the situation on Asgard and Baldr accelerated his plans.”

“And so you helped this...Baldr,” Loki gestured absently to the page he and Sif had been looking at.

“Because it was the only way to escape after thousands of years of forced servitude and exile,” Sleipnir shook his head, “I read SHIELD's reports of you, complete with psychological analysis, background-”

“No doubt colored by Thor's words-”

“-Yes, even that, but this is why I wished to speak to you, my Prince. Please...you are not blinded by the affection, the memories of whom I used to be, who I am like Odin, Frigga, Eir, the twins Huugin and Munnin, and even Heimdall. They...” he shook his head, “the fact that you are here, searching for my past, of who I am because something does not sit right with you, I am _glad_.”

“Why?” Loki was truly curious as to why someone would be glad for him to be searching into his past, when it was normally the opposite. It only served to heighten his suspicions and make him scrutinize Sleipnir further.

“Because Baldr intends to use the Crown Prince, your brother Thor, to take the throne of Asgard for himself,” Sleipnir said quietly.

* * *

“My Queen, she is here to speak to you,” her dark...skin, if it truly could be called that, almost blended in with the supposed dim light of the great hall, but to Lady Hel, it was bright enough. Most of the dead that appeared before her came with the expectation that this was not the bright lights of Valhalla or of the Heaven, Nirvana, or any other trivial religious bright lights of salvation. This was her realm and thus she kept it as such.

“Thank you Sigyn, you may continue your watch,” she replied, smoothing out an absent wrinkle in her dress, sending the silent howls of the damned across the vast hall. The Valkyrie, who once had been relatively mortal, but now was kept under her careful watch as a promise to a certain Asgardian Prince, bowed her head, her beautiful face lighting up with the fires of her kind that had been seared to her to keep her alive as she floated away, returning to her duties. But then again, she supposed that her version of beauty was far different than what most people though of – if the lack of a face where flames licked internally and blackened skeletal bones covered her form, a true fire atronarch, a fire demon of Muspelheim instead of only in name.

She smoothed out another wrinkle, sending a burst of howls across the cavernous room once more before she looked up, _feeling_ the change in the room rather than the announcement or approach of the being in question. It was only a courtesy that her guest afforded to her daughters, approaching swiftly as the swipe of a sword, cut of a dagger, or even the short blast of a gun or explosion that take others into her embrace. Whether they land in her realm or were escorted by Sigyn by her duties as a Valkyrie to the heavenly paradise of their choosing in the aftermath was another story.

“How fares you Mother?” she looked up and greeted the hooded figure. Lady Death by all rights, looked exactly like how many pictured Death to look like – skeletal, hooded, and always carrying a scythe. Only a very select few knew what was under the cloak, and only one knew Death in such an intimate way. But that particular one individual was currently languishing in his prison of the Tesseract, and certainly not Hel's father. No, she and her sisters had been pulled from Death itself, her truest daughters in the sense. Certainly her mother's lover would have liked to have claimed them as his daughters, like many he had 'adopted' over the years and turned them into his personal assassins, but she claimed no allegiance nor loyalty to that creature in the Tesseract. His true-born sons certain always seemed to think so, a product of various affairs when Lady Death was fickle.

“Sated,” her inhumanly light eyes peered out from under her hood as Hel stared at her, pleased at her appearance in her Court. Her voice was clipped, deep enough to be masculine, but feminine enough that it truly was that Death had no gender, but considering that Death took everyone when it was their time, she supposed that it was a bit of the influences and affection she had for certain others that she personified her mother as, well, feminine.

She sat back, content to let her mother speak when she wished it,s as silence reigned in the vast room. The silence would have been enough, filling her with contentment, but there was always a reason for Death's appearance in the realm of the unjudged dead – and it was not to deliver the newly deceased.

“Storm,” Death spoke up and Lady Hel noticed a shift in her inhuman light eyes, “Ragnarok.”

She only nodded once, absently shifting in her chair, sending out several silent howls of the damned from her dress. So it was nearly time then...and though the past two years since her last appearance in front of the Court of Odin Allfather had passed by relatively quickly – to her only a blink of an eye – she had been waiting for this moment. And truth be told, she was mildly curious as to what would happen. What would be the tipping point...what would _he_ chose?

“A promise?” she asked and only got the barest hint of a smile, and not even, as a reply before she felt, more than saw her mother disappear to resume her duties. Ah, so it was a promise and Lady Hel wondered what had been made in the minutes in Death's embrace on the Rainbow Bridge three years ago. Interesting indeed...

* * *

“And you were to walk this Baldr and Thor across the shadows, am I correct?” Loki continued for Sleipnir, “but you escaped with the power you were given.”

“Yes,” Sleipnir replied, “and even now I can feel the mental tugs of the bond a familiar to its master, calling me back to Midgard, to be by his side.” He gestured to Jormungandr, “Surely you summon him in the same manner?”

The lie was easily on Loki's lips, the quick 'of course' and the easiest way for him to smooth it over with some nonsensical explanation, but something stopped him from saying the words and instead he smiled fractionally, “No. I do not.”

He was rewarded with the smallest start of surprise from Sleipnir, one hidden behind the man's icy blue eyes that Loki knew was not laced with falsehood. Sif only looked confused, but even she seemed surprised – as surprised as someone could be who knew nothing of summons or magick; he supposed it was enough. “But perhaps it is easier for you to resist the call since you claim to not have any magicks within you.”

“You wonder when I might take a weapon and demand to be sent back via Bifrost,” Sleipnir shrugged as if it was nothing, “it is not so sinister as the geas contracts you made with Director Fury.”

“You know of geas contracts?” Loki asked, curious as to what the former mage might have known about them.

Sleipnir raised an eyebrow at him, “I do know that they were forbidden magick when I was still with the Court, and guessing the attitudes of the present Court, it is still forbidden magick if not at all discussed. How you have learned it to create two contracts with Director Fury is interesting. What I knew about them was that they involve blood magick and thus a person's core.” A small bitter smile, one that somehow made Loki distinctly uncomfortable for reasons that he could not fathom, appeared on the man's lips, “Perhaps since I do not have a core, I do not know how a geas would work.”

“And how different is it for a familiar?”

“It can be ignored without consequences considering what Director Fury put into his report. Something about...death?” Sleipnir's smile disappeared as he looked at him and Loki shrugged.

“If one was inclined to ignore the geas in such a way that it reneges on the agreement made,” he answered and saw the quick flash of disappointment across the man's face before he nodded. Sleipnir had been hoping for more, but to what end, Loki did not know. Perhaps it was truly innocent in a manner of speaking, but he was not inclined to share anymore than the vagueness of it being spoken – and hopefully whatever Fury had put into his report.

“Baldr will continue to put pressure for my return, but I have had years of practice by his side and will be ignoring it for sometime. I will petition the Allfather to heed my warning and summon your brother Thor back with all haste though,” Sleipnir said, “any chance that Baldr may have with his plan will put Asgard in great danger.”

“If he was exiled to Midgard, it only proves that he can affect Midgard. If he does not have any means to travel from there, then how-” Sif started confused before Sleipnir shook his head, interrupting her.

“Baldr means to exert his influence and control Thor-”

Sif barked out a laugh, “Preposterous! Thor cannot be-”

“He has the sceptre you invaded the Midgard with, my Prince,” Sleipnir leaned forward a little, and Loki frowned, “this was why I told you that his plans were accelerated with the downfall of SHIELD and the rise of HYDRA. When you left the sceptre with Director Fury two years previous, it was supposedly sent to orbit around the Earth, Midgard. But in reality, it ended up in the hands of SHIELD's enemies.”

“Loki, that sceptre-”

“Is able to control the minds of others,” Loki replied softly, not so much concern about the weapon, but rather interested in where it had gone to after he had left it, to Sif's half inquiry, “to twist and bend them to one's will.” He looked at Sleipnir, “Even though the fool is dimwitted and an oaf, not all of Thor is brute strength.”

“Wait, he will try to control _Thor_ with the sceptre?! But that's impossible!” Sif shook her head violently, unable to believe what they were saying. “It cannot be-”

“Baldr was shrewd, devious, and clever enough to _fake_ his death when the Crown Prince came after him in his fit of madness. The fact that he was clever enough to stay _hidden_ on Midgard from Heimdall's eyes all these thousands of years should be a testament to his strength of mind to keep the Guardian of all people from realizing that he was alive. I do not lie, my Prince, nor to you my Lady, that Baldr _wants_ the throne of Asgard and would do anything in his power to get it,” Loki could hear real fear in the man's voice.

“Why tell me?” he finally asked after a moment of silence, “surely you have heard the rumors, known of whom I am.”

“Loki Jotunkiller amongst other epithets and names given? Silvertongue? Trickster?” the other man smiled briefly and bitterly as he managed to compose himself and sat back once more, “I've heard. The tales told at tonight's feast spoke of previous deeds, but also of the Warriors Three and the good Lady's battles with the current Crown Prince. Your absence from a majority of those tales as well as your absence from the feast did spark rumors.”

“Not so out of touch with Court politics as you claim earlier,” Loki said and caught the brief flash of surprise on the man's face before he accepted the statement.

“My exile on Midgard required me to play politics with those who ruled the countries,” he said with a small shrug, “perhaps it was no different here, except for the long wordplay and subtleties that seem to take months instead of hours.” He twisted his neck a little, and covered a small yawn, “My apologies, it seems that the hours I kept on Earth are vastly different than the ones on Asgard. Partially also why I was curious to hear voices in the library when most of Asgard slept. Though now it seems to have caught up to me.” He folded his hands together, “I tell you because you are one of the few who has the Allfather's ear, but are not influenced by memories of who I am or what I have done.”

“The adopted son of the Crown Prince,” Loki ignored Sleipnir's words about him having the ear of Odin – it was more for the benefit and influence at Court and a not so subtle reminder for Thor that he should be paying more attention to Asgard than off gallivanting with his mortal friends. Besides, he stood at Odin's left hand side, _not_ his right – which was most definitely occupied by Frigga and by Thor whenever he felt like making an appearance at Court.

“My former title. I am surprised that it was not excised from that tome you were looking at,” the auburn-haired man gestured to it, “I certainly would have had it done give the events that happened.”

“The tale of the battle between Odin and his brother that you and, um, H-Huugin spoke of at the feast?” Sif looked like she had swallowed something sour at mentioning Huugin. Loki again regretted that he was not at the feast – it certainly sounded entertaining if not for the visual factor of seeing the Allfather's ravens as humans; speaking as if they had been part of the Court all along - just not quite in their human forms.

“To commit patricide, especially one adopted like I was and lauded, given titles, land, holdings, honor, accolades that one received in such service...” Sleipnir's icy blue eyes looked distant for a moment as he shook his head wistfully, “the fact that Odin left his brother's name in the line and mine after it...he loved his older brother too much to dishonor his memory like that. And...mine I suppose.” The older man pursed his lips for a second as he looked away, “I should have been stripped of my title after what I had helped Odin do. I was the Crown Prince's heir and I helped kill him. I was...lucky to not have been killed when I arrived this morning. I thought...I thought I was going to be. Maybe it was a punishment of sorts that I fell to Earth, to Midgard, after committing my deed. Or perhaps the Norns decided that my fate was to be bound to Baldr for committing patricide and for Odin's fratricide for him to rule as Allfather.”

The faraway look disappeared from Sleipnir's eyes as he turned back to look at Loki, “I ask of you, my Prince, to plead with the Allfather to retrieve Thor from Midgard. Odin does not understand Baldr like I do. He and the rest of the coterie had been deceived-”

“Coterie?” Loki was surprised at how flat he managed to keep his voice while he inwardly recoiled in shock, “a coterie?”

“Y-Yes,” Sleipnir blinked, surprised, “that was what had been formed between Odin and his brothers and the others like myself, Heimdall, Lady Hel, Frigga, Eir, Tyr, Freya, Freyr...” Something seemed to click in Sleipnir as he tilted his head to the side, “O-Odin did not explain any of this to you or even to Thor?”

Loki shook his head, unable to trust himself from even speaking through the sudden swooping anger that filled him. The Allfather had a _coterie_ of all things. A coterie. Not just one of mages, as clearly Eir was part of it and even Hel of all people. But a coterie where _warriors_ like Heimdall were included. Never mind the fact that it included his brothers Baldr and the Crown Prince Loki, both whom were magick users! He had only stumbled upon such a word when _his_ coterie had been training with Lady Death – and there had not been a single word from Odin when he had _introduced_ his coterie to the Court before Fenrir had enacted the plan of regicide.

Sleipnir shook his head and rubbed his eyes as he muttered, “Odin, what in the name of the Norns were you thinking?! Not telling them to form their coterie? Not...” He let loose a very audible sigh, “It would have been explained when Thor would have been crowned as the Crown Prince and heir-in-waiting.”

“The coronation was interrupted,” Sif said quietly and Loki kept his face neutral, knowing what she meant. There was never any official ceremony to finish the coronation, but everyone knew that Thor had taken on the title of Crown Prince and so assumed that the rest of the ceremony must have happened behind closed doors.

“But I thought-” the older man looked puzzled then shook his head, “you know what, never mind. I do not know what Odin was thinking, but it certainly explains a few things, especially why magick has all been outlawed or not even spoken of in such an open manner since he took the throne. The Allfather is too frightened to do anything that would upset the balance or put his family in harms' way.” Sleipnir laughed a little bitterly, “Why all but hush magick use? Why shun it? Because Baldr supposedly died from the Crown Prince's madness, that's why. Too ashamed of his brothers' actions to even consider magick to be used anymore. Malign the battlemages because, 'oh no they might go mad from what happened to my family.' Why not tell his sons that they should form a coterie because the divide between warriors superstition and battlemages is too great...”

“Unnatural...not needed when all there is, is the sword and shield,” Loki whispered, feeling an odd sense of kinship with what the other man was saying, “a monster...” He sensed more than saw Sif's aborted movement before he looked at her, a sharp painful smile on his lips, “It was always the truth Sif. Monster...”

She looked away, closing her eyes, “I refuse to believe that.”

“There is no truth in your voice Sif. You say that lie to yourself because you still refuse to see it,” he replied before looking back at Sleipnir, “You wish me to speak to the Allfather to have Heimdall retrieve Thor?”

“Yes. Because if Heimdall is the same person that I have known, he will not do anything unless it is a direct order from the Allfather. His position as Guardian means he took an oath and Heimdall will follow the oath to the very last letter,” Sleipnir looked a little hopeful, his icy blue eyes brightening a little.

“You'd be surprise at what orders Heimdall follows,” Loki still distinctly remembered Heimdall attacking him on the edges of the Observatory. “You would be also remiss to know that Thor has already disappeared from Heimdall's sight.”

That got reactions from both Sif and Sleipnir. Sif sat forward, uttering a flat 'What' to which Loki ignored while Sleipnir's eyes widened, fear creeping back into them.

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck...” Loki had to admit, it was a little odd hearing the mortal swears coming from Sleipnir's mouth as it devolved into incoherent mutters before he shook his head and ran a hand through his short cropped hair, “shit, we're too late...we're...” He gritted his teeth for a second and looked at Loki, “We need to return to Midgard, at least someone needs to return there and _find_ Thor before-” He huffed a breath, “It means that Baldr's already got him, at least maybe controlling him through the sceptre or doing something if he's cloaked from Heimdall's sight-”

“Should Baldr have magick after all this time-”

Sleipnir suddenly slammed his hands on the table, making the heavy tomes jump and Jormungandr to hiss wildly as he lifted his head, “You're not _listening_ to me, Loki! We _need-_ I need- No, I definitely do _not_ want to go back there, but someone needs to! Baldr _faked_ his death! That means he still has the powers of a _magister_! Do you even fucking know what that means?!”

“Please, do enlighten me,” Loki replied coldly, drawing himself up as he sat in his chair and stared at the older man who was staring at him like he was an idiot. It must have occurred to Sleipnir that he was still speaking to royalty, and to the second Prince of Asgard to boot, as he suddenly deflated and tried to compose himself. He ran a hand through his short red hair and breathed out a loud sigh and looked away, his fingers tapping nervously on the book once more.

“Magisters are technically the highest title one could achieve in terms of the magickal arts. The Jotuns are known for their line of magisters before they were all supposedly killed in a massive rebellion eons ago. The other races...they were lucky if one or two of them could achieve the rank in their longest years of study. Powerful, strong, they traversed the universe, peacekeepers for the most part, or warmongers. A magister at the head of an army with battlemages and warriors as support...that army conquered,” Sleipnir pursed his lips as he tried to settle his nervous tapping, “When I studied under the Crown Prince, I learned a lot of the secrets of magisters. Rumors that the fire demons of Muspelheim were a race of all magisters, but their spellcasting gone awry with some powerful artifact that was made of stone. I learned that the Jotun magisters might have been wiped out by Asgard itself in its conquest of the nine realms. Direct competition you see...though they tried to challenge others beyond the realms, but were pushed back because of other artifacts created to hamper Asgard's conquest.”

Sleipnir laughed a little hysterically, “It just hit me...it makes sense now...why...” He looked up at him, “Baldr with the power of a magister from long years of study, the Crown Prince Loki as a magister with his long years of study...why I was taken into his care...trained...why Odin was part of their coterie...Asgard was ready to conquer again...”

Loki knew he was missing something in Sleipnir's words, but decided not to ask as he saw an oddly familiar mad light in the older man's icy blue eyes. It unnerved him as Sleipnir opened his mouth again. “Baldr has had these thousands of years of exile to further his study as a magister, my Prince. He's had _years_ of subjecting those around him to his will and words, if not through the power he wields. He has worked behind the shadows of Midgard's history all these years, manipulating politics, wars, as HYDRA and as other organizations with the clear goals of furthering mortal technology and uplift it to that of Asgard. The advent of SHIELD, Thor's arrival four years previous... With the staff you used to control Agent Barton and Dr. Selvig...”

“...Thor does not stand a chance,” Loki finished for him, a disquieting sensation filling him. _He_ knew how the sceptre worked, how to twist the thoughts of those he touched the crown to. The brute force suppression of Agent Barton's rebellious tendencies under the sceptre three years previous had been tempered by the ease of a few nudges and hints with Dr. Selvig's mind. He had told Jane Foster that Selvig did what he had done with an open mind, he had only just given him some direction and nurtured his curiosity about the Tesseract back then. Thor's Jane had called him a monster and he had only smiled at her.

Heimdall had reported that Thor had been _talking_ to someone cloaked in shadow before he disappeared from his sight. If this Baldr truly had used the sceptre on Thor, whether it be the brute force suppression or even the nudging hints, it meant that Baldr had time to study it. And since SHIELD's fall, it meant that whatever notes had been made on the sceptre was out in the wide open, giving Baldr more information about the sceptre. The fact of the matter was that Thor had been _talking_ supposedly to Baldr. As far as Loki knew, Thor never talked and always led with his hammer first. Thor never stood a chance when talking, especially with his opponent.

And now...if it was all true, Baldr controlled Thor.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of little minor plot threads left hanging in _Atonement_ just coming together now. Hopefully if you've read the cliff notes or even if you've followed the series since Atonement, you're starting to realize the scope of things. Also, per usual, Odin kind of really needs to work on his communication – I mean, he's far from the perfect, loving King, but he's apparently very recalcitrant.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki was acutely aware that most others, his oafish brother included, would have gone straight to the Allfather to demand the return of the wayward Crown Prince – or rather if it was his and Thor's place reversed, Thor would have loudly demanded it for all the realms to hear propriety be damned. But that was not his way, not without understanding all of the pieces of the story he had been given. There was still something Sleipnir was holding back, he could clearly see it when they had spoken the previous night. Of course, Sleipnir also had said that he was not there to convince him that he meant no harm. That statement in of itself bothered him. It was as if the other man knew exactly what he he had been thinking and so further his suspicions about Sleipnir.

Plus, he still could not shake the feeling that there was something _dangerous_ about Sleipnir. Whether that danger was to him, to Asgard, to the Allfather – though he actually did not care enough about that – but he could not pinpoint the sense of danger. The easiest solution was to petition the Allfather and throw the red-haired man into the cells below Asgard. For proof, Loki knew he could have easily lied and said that Sleipnir was an assassin – come to kill him in the library at night. The lie would have been accepted and have been believed considering Sleipnir's unusual arrival and clear use of magicks witnessed by some in the Court. But something told Loki that dealing with Sleipnir in that fashion would have been far more detrimental than to puzzle out what bothered him. Letting Sleipnir roam free was the other option – especially considering what he had heard about the feast last night, lauded and given a place of honor amongst the head of the table. The Court was now well aware of the favor Sleipnir had with the Allfather and Allmother.

Again, Loki wished he had been at the feast instead of ignoring it to talk to Heimdall or even at the library. But he considered missed opportunities as another chance to create another window of opportunity. And that was something he was good at – creating opportunities.

“My Prince? What can we do for you?” a light voice politely asked as he pulled himself out of his thoughts and focused on the young Healer who was dressed in the smock and tunic of an apprentice.

“Eir,” he said and the apprentice nodded once before gesturing deeper into the Healing Halls.

“Near one of the Soul Forges, sire,” she bowed her head as he swept past her without a further word heading deeper into the Healing Halls.

The too-clean smell of the Healing Halls always bothered him, as did the faint tingle of healing magicks and healing stones at work. Those who were trained as Healers always had their voices at a quiet soothing murmur, and it irritated him to no end. Polite, calm, and rarely flustered, they oozed a sense of falsehood that grated at him, even if people around them were dying. A small measure of comfort for those in their last moments somehow struck him as wrong – a pity that was not needed. Death was death. There was no end to it just-

“Loki?” he stirred out of his thoughts again, briefly wondering why he was so distracted today, as he saw Eir send her latest patient off from the Soul Forge she had been operating on. The warrior, clearly sweat-covered from training, scurried off with a quick glance at them before making himself scarce.

“Jormungandr,” he replied to her inquiry and held out his hand as the aforementioned serpent slithered from where he had been perched on his shoulder down to his arm and hand before coiling onto Eir's weathered ones. She smiled ruefully at Jormungandr who flicked his tongue in and out, tasting the air. “It has come to light that he has been spending a lot of time at the Observatory where the magick concentration is the highest-

“And you wish to know if this is normal,” Eir finished for him before clucking her tongue a little as she went over to the Soul Forge she had been working at and placed Jormungandr in the middle of it, “Jor, I will need you to shift to your human form in order to examine your core.”

The snake blinked once before lifting his head up to stare at Loki as if to ask permission to which Eir only sighed and shook her head. “You certainly act like one for not even being bound,” she murmured quietly and Loki glanced at her before she met his gaze with a knowing one of her own. “I have had years of experience dealing with the magicks of familiars and the core. The spellwork I placed upon Jormungandr to adhere to the Allfather's judgment of not being able to shift to his human form has long been unraveled and I sense your hand in it. The fact that Jor still asks permission even if the threads and skeins of a familiar binding him to you are not present is telling, Loki.”

Loki stayed silent, recognizing the hidden reprimand in her tone that she had long used on him when he and Thor were younger and had gotten into heaps of trouble. Eir was probably one of the few who could speak so frankly to him, something that he did not quite resent as much as he avoided her as much as possible. She was akin to a second mother to him, healing his injuries when he had not learned the spellwork, tending to him when he did start to learn spellwork and occasionally had a casting mishap. The reason why he tolerated her was that she had never, ever said anything to the Allmother or Allfather unless it was with his explicit permission – and that was something he secretly appreciated.

“Change, you silly little boy,” Eir turned her sharp tongue on Jormungandr, “and do not waste my time.”

The snake blinked once again, looking a bit cowed as much as a snake could, before quickly shifting to his human form. He kept himself prone on the Soul Forge as Eir held her hands up and started to manipulate the quantum field generators. “Speak your request.” Her eyes were focused on the readings the Soul Forge was giving her, but her tone indicated that she was not fooled by his seemingly innocuous request for her to examine Jormungandr.

If it had been someone like Sif, he would have made a snide remark about how well he knew her, but Loki only acknowledged her request with a tilt of his head. “Who is Baldr?” he asked.

“To Sleipnir or to the House of Bor?” Eir countered and Loki blinked. That was not the answer he was expecting and saw the faint hint of a smile on the old Healer's lips. “You are not the first to ask such a question, Loki.”

“So it is Sleipnir?” he countered and she sighed, nodding her head as if a little saddened.

“He is who he claims to be, and that disturbs me far greater than anything else,” her fingers and hands paused in manipulating the field as she stared at a distant point beyond everything, “the poor boy...perhaps both lucky and unlucky to have survived for so long without a core and in such a state too.”

“He has no other form than the one he has, unlike Jor or even Huugin and Munnin,” she gestured absently to Jormungandr who had closed his eyes and was seemingly asleep on the Soul Forge. Loki suspected that he was probably enjoying the faint thrum of magicks the Forge produced, absorbing it as much has he could with skin-to-surface contact. The effect would last until he got off of the Soul Forge, but for now, he seemed to be content, or truly asleep.

“I would have thought he'd be a horse...an eight-legged one,” he replied a bit dryly and heard the faint snort of amusement from Jormungandr. Eir only gave him a look to which he shrugged.

“The degradation of a magick-inclined person's mind with the the lack of a core can be minimized by keeping familiars in their animal form. Sleipnir is lucky that he still has his faculties intact. It seems that whomever has sustained him at least gave him bits of magick from time to time to minimize some of the degradation,” she gave a very matronly sigh and shook her head, “if it truly is Baldr to whom he his bound to...”

Loki waited as she pinched her lips and stared at the readings, her eyes not quite reading it before she shook her head, “Foolish boy. No matter what deal Baldr offered him, why would he take it? He knew of the dark magick that had taken his adopted father.” A faint sardonic smile appeared on her lips, “To answer your question, my Prince, Baldr was the third son of Bor Allfather. Not so much adopted as the Court might say, but rather a half-brother of then-Prince Odin and Crown Prince Loki.”

“Better to be considered adopted than a bastard,” it was something that Loki had been well aware of, even before he had found out he was a stolen Jotun babe.

The Court and Asgard as a society was rather peculiar about the adopted sons and daughters of its nobles and commoners. Both a bastard and an adopted child were shunned to a degree, but adoption was considered more...polite and somewhat more respectful than bastardization. Dalliances with those outside of marriage was not viewed with much disdain, but Norn-forbid a child was produced from such a union that gave the term bastard. Adoption by one parent into the family was the only way to erase such stigma and if either of the parents died without having the child adopted, then the child was considered a bastard through and through and shunned. One such former playmate in his and Thor's youth had been found and subsequently banished. Those whose parentage were unknown were often called bastards – hence some of the stigma attached to the members of his former coterie – after all with magick thrown into the mix, it was not spoken of in polite society; even if they had true parentage.

Eir only made a humming noise as she manipulated the Soul Forge some more, “Baldr was a proud son of Asgard and strove to banish the stigma one had for those adopted into families as bastards. Some nicknamed him the Champion of Reformation, derisive and undermining his attempts to change society and to change how people thought. But the Crown Prince loved him like his own and sought to help him.”

“And Odin?”

“Alienated, I suppose, especially when both the Crown Prince and Baldr showed signs of magick,” Eir looked thoughtful, “perhaps I see it in hindsight, but one could not really judge what has happened thousands of years previous until one has time to think and reflect on it.” She made another quiet humming noise and adjusted the Soul Forge, “Odin loved Baldr in his own way, as did we all. He was kindhearted, a bit prone to dramatics, but he cared about the problems of even the smallest of those that served the House of Bor. He was...the people's prince, his sobriquet when people were kind.”

“Sounds like Thor,” Loki said, unable to keep the slight bitterness from his voice. To his surprise, Eir laughed lightly and shook her head.

“Perhaps, but not the one I would compare to,” the Healer replied, but did not elaborate as she sobered, “but like all siblings, Crown Prince Loki and Prince Baldr were prone to fighting and so as one of their fights proceeded, no one thought anything of it. It was Sleipnir who alerted us to the fight happening on the Bifrost itself. I was only told by Frigga of what transpired, my studies keeping me here in the Healing Halls. The Crown Prince had apparently gone mad and ended up pushing Baldr's still breathing, but unconscious body off of the Bifrost and seemingly into the voids of the spaces in between.”

“Then why did everyone presumed Baldr dead? There has been proof that things...existed, survived in the void,” Loki swallowed back the sudden swooping dread that had filled him when he mentioned the void and the blackness, endless black-madness- He shuddered a little and ruthlessly suppressed the thought.

“Why do you think Heimdall's position was created posthaste? His first and only task was to search the realms for Baldr, for any sign of his body or even of him alive when Lady Hel reported he was not seen in her realm. It slowly evolved into the Guardianship that it is now, a protector of Asgard,” Eir said as she absently chewed her lower lip, “But in the immediate aftermath, Odin proved he truly loved his younger brother by pursuing the Crown Prince, to bring him back to Asgard for justice. Freyr and his sister Freya were the first ones to fall to Crown Prince Loki's blades and magick. And it was only Sleipnir's supposed sacrifice that enabled Odin to slay his brother and end the madness that had consumed him.”

Loki tilted his head a little – this was the second, if not the third time he had heard of the so-called 'madness' that had consumed Crown Prince Loki. “What madness was it that consumed the Crown Prince to kill Baldr in the first place?”

Eir only stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head gently, “I do not know, as I was not witness to the battle between the two, and even Frigga said she did not know what was spoken between the two before they reached them on the Bifrost. But what I do know is that the madness that was spoken of, was perhaps created by another, one of whom you are intimately familiar with, Loki.” There was something in her gaze that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable all of the sudden; as if a nameless fear grew in him like the serpentine form of Jormungandr.

“He is not named Thanos the Mad Titan for naught,” the Healer said quietly, “an epithet given to him by Odin after Bor Allfather sacrificed himself to banish him to the voids of Yggdrasil.”

* * *

Loki's first instinct was to check the Vaults to ensure that the Tesseract was still there, but he stopped himself from doing such a childish action. It would only prove that he was still afraid of Thanos' shadow when he was clearly imprisoned within; like a mewling little child jumping at shadows in the dark when he need not fear it. There was no tugging, no horrific thoughts that whispered like his own, no sharp shooting pain that signaled the reactivation of the geas he had made with Thanos in a desperate moment of utter despair and fury. Odin would have been notified if the Tesseract was missing or if Thanos had somehow, improbably, escaped its confinement. He was safe, he was in no danger-

He breathed out quietly through his nose as he briefly pinched it in an effort to calm his nerves down. It made perfect sense, he reflected as he made his way to the private gardens to calm himself down some more. The Allfather's words that day on the Bifrost when Thanos had attacked Asgard in a bid to get the Infinity Gauntlet. Though he had been wracked with horrific pain, both physically and mentally, he had kept his wits about him – enough to both fool Thanos into thinking he had the Gauntlet, and also to have the coherency to attack him when his concentration was focused on said illusion. It explained a lot about Odin's words to Thanos and Thanos' taunts back to the Allfather.

His footsteps slowed as he approached the rotunda to the private gardens and heard the barest murmurs of voices from within. Norns help him if it was an amorous pair of servants or nobles that were strictly _forbidden_ from entering the royal gardens-

And stopped abruptly before cloaking himself quickly in the shadows as he saw a flash of golden hair, silvery-blue dress, and heard Queen Frigga's light laugh as she walked by with _Sleipnir_ of all people.

“...not get a chance to offer my heartfelt pride at what you had achieved,” Sleipnir said, his voice lighter and much more friendlier than the night before. Loki was glad that he left Jormungandr with Eir back in the Healing Halls as he peered around the corner to see the two of them wander amongst a bed of flowers before sitting on the stonework bench. There was enough distance between Frigga and Sleipnir to indicate a sense of propriety and politeness, but the fact that he was talking with her in the _private_ gardens spoke volumes.

In their youth, and even occasionally now, the gardens were a place to whisper sweet nothings to whomever he or Thor fancied in that moment, and even also to occasionally bed them when lust took over. They were also used for a place of meditation or quiet contemplation as Loki had seen the Allfather occasionally wander the paths more than once before and after Court appearances. He had caught both Frigga and Odin occasionally spending time in the gardens and even he himself used it as a place to read in quiet when Thor would not stop bothering him and he did not like being holed up in his quarters.

Certainly bringing another person that was _not_ part of the royal household was rare and required at least some discretion – or in the case of Loki and hilariously enough, Thor when he was feeling a bit rebellious, no discretion at all. Certainly Frigga and Odin never did such a thing – at least even according to Court gossip, so _this_ certainly was a first. And a surprise to Loki.

Frigga had hinted that perhaps there had been an affection for Sleipnir long ago when she had approached him yesterday morning. Odin's expression certainly said something, but Loki wondered if it really was true. Considering how _gentle_ Sleipnir's voice was, maybe there was some truth to something that had happened between the Queen and Sleipnir before he had been presumed dead.

“The pride is accepted, but nothing has been achieved-”

“Frigga, er, Lady Frigga, you are Queen. A battlemage made Queen! Yes, Odin may have banished magick or at least forbidden it to be spoken of or shown, but he cannot forget that you were one before you were Queen!” Sleipnir sounded exuberant and Frigga only laughed lightly, patting him gently on the shoulder.

“Sleipnir, even now the people forget that I used to be one,” Frigga sounded apologetic, “and my skills have only been extended to occasionally visiting the Healing Halls and helping Eir tend to her patients. Even then, it is very ceremonial.”

“It's hypocritical, that is what it is,” the other man replied crossly his initial exuberance all but gone, “surely the Court knows that Healers are mages-”

“It is something they have trained themselves to be blind to, Sleipnir,” Frigga sounded infinitely patient as she tilted her head a little, “you have to realize what happened after...well, after your father and after you had supposedly died...”

“Odin got scared,” there was a rough emotion that Loki could not identify in Sleipnir's voice, but it produced a soothing shushing sound from Frigga, “no, Frigga- Odin got scared. Odin was frightened by what he cannot, and still will not understand! Forbidding magick? Banishing it so that even our Vanir brethren practice on Vanaheim and are looked upon with disdain in Court-”

“Yes, Odin was frightened,” Frigga sighed, “but what more did you expect? He lost his family, lost almost everyone he loved to magick because he was powerless to stop it.”

There was an undignified, disbelieving snort from Sleipnir as he made a motion with a hand, raking it through his hair. It was unlike a mortal gesture that Loki saw Dr. Banner occasional use when frustrated, “But, why did you not convince him otherwise?”

“Because I was and still am his Queen,” Frigga answered in a simple tone and Sleipnir laughed. It was a bitter sound that twisted something in Loki again like the few times he had heard such a sound or expression from the other man.

“Because the House of Odin, the former House of Bor, cannot fall. Asgard is ready to conquer once more,” the auburn-red haired man shook his head, “maybe it is for the better that I do not have my core-”

“Do _not_ say that!” Frigga sounded horrified, “Sleipnir! Do not-”

“Do you love him?” Sleipnir suddenly asked and Loki peered out, still cloaked in the shadows, to see Frigga staring at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“I-”

“Never mind, I know the answer. My apologies for asking such an inappropriate question-”

The surprise in her eyes suddenly turned into something ugly and full of hurt as she shook her head, “You were proud of my achievement as Queen even though I am a former battlemage. Yet, you cannot stand my betrothal and marriage to Odin. Sleipnir, I still have great affection for you, but I cannot be the Frigga you once knew.”

Something in the other man's expression broke as he reached over and placed a hand over her own folded ones, “I know, I know...I...I am not asking you to, I just... Everything has _changed_ since I was here last and I wanted at least someone who knew me to- To...just...”

“Odin still loves you like you were his own Sleipnir. The years as Allfather has taken a toll on him though-”

“Odin doesn't _trust_ me, not like before. I mean, I practically fell into the throne room, claiming to be from Midgard, rambling about Baldr being alive and he will not believe the words I say because if he did, he would have done _something_ by now. If I was to be a Sentinel, either to my father or to him since he took up the position of Allfather, should my word not be _trusted_ and acted upon with immediate haste?!”

“The last time Odin acted with haste, he lost you, lost his brothers, and lost his love Freya, and his best friend Freyr,” Frigga replied quietly, “everything the Allfather does now has a purpose.”

“Yeah,” once again, Loki was struck at the jarring change into the mortal's language that came from Sleipnir's mouth, “exiling Thor to Midgard was the best thing that could happen. Frigga, it _accelerated_ Baldr's plans. He realized that Asgard was vulnerable and started his plans. The Baldr all of us knew from all those thousand years previous is _not_ the Baldr we thought we knew. It was he who had always wanted the throne of Asgard, coveted from the shadows as he pretended to be the supportive friendly brother with my father!”

“And if this is true, then like you had said, he is no threat to Asgard so long as he stays on Midgard-”

“He's a threat to _Thor_ ! To _your_ son!” Sleipnir shook his head, grimacing, “he is in possession of the Chitauri sceptre your other son wielded in his time on Midgard!”

“The sceptre-”

“Frigga, it-” Sleipnir abruptly stopped as he suddenly paled and from his vantage point, Loki saw a small drip of blood visible on his nose before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground. Frigga barely caught him before shouting for the guards as they rushed in.

Loki flatted himself against his hiding place as they rushed past him and hurried to the Queen as she cast a spell over Sleipnir's prone form. Huugin's sudden caw was the only warning he got as the raven flew past him. The raven barely missed clipping his head with a wing as he landed on a branch to survey the scene with a tilted head. Not even a second later, the raven took off again, no doubt to report back to the Allfather what had happened as three of the guards lifted Sleipnir's limp body from the ground. His body was already glowing with a healing spell of sorts as the guards carried him into the rotunda. Frigga followed quickly behind as the other guards formed a protective barrier between her and any potential assassin that might have struck.

Even before they had all left, Loki cast a spell out towards the gardens, trying to sense if there was indeed any assassin that had been lying in wait, but felt nothing as he distantly heard the door close behind the last of the guards. His own lack of reaction when Sleipnir had collapsed surprised him, but for some odd reason he had somehow sensed that it was not an assassination attempt; but _how_ he had known, was a mystery. Instead, Loki uncloaked himself from the shadows and left the gardens, making his way to the Healing Halls. Leaving Jormungandr there had been a good thing after all.

* * *

“There are signs of magickal exhaustion,” Eir was murmuring quietly as Loki entered the Healing Halls, “but it seems that he had a spike in blood pressure that is most likely the cause of his collapse. Perhaps it was the abruptness of his travel through the shadows of the void, combined with feeling such intensity of magick that surrounds Asgard that led to this.”

“He will recover,” Odin's words did not sound like a question, but nonetheless, Loki caught Eir nodding as he approached the Soul Forge where Jormungandr had apparently reverted back to his serpentine form and was sleeping, one coil placed over his head to filter out the lights of the Healing Halls.

“He will, Allfather,” Eir confirmed, “unfortunately he has been deprived of magick from his core that the tattered remains hunger for it so it is the probable cause of what led to his collapse.”

“Compounded with the healing spell I cast upon him-”

“I did not say that, my Queen-”

“No need to placate my ego, dear friend,” Frigga gave a bracing smile, “I did not realize the extent of it-”

They were interrupted by the loud flapping of wings as Munnin landed on the Allfather's shoulder, unceremoniously forcing Huugin to jump to Gungir's point in order to not be flattened by his brother raven. A second later, Odin turned his head to Munnin who cawed softly and took off once more. Loki turned and nudged Jormungandr with a finger as he saw Huugin turn its head towards where he was. It was as if the raven knew that he was attempting to eavesdrop and judging by what he learned about the ravens in the past day or so – Huugin probably knew that he _was_ trying to eavesdrop without being obvious about it.

Jormungandr lifted another coil and tried to burrow under it to which annoyed Loki, but he dared not pick up the serpent on the pretense of letting him wake up on his own. It would have been easier to pick up Jormungandr and put him into one of his pockets and leave, but Loki was far more interested in what the Allfather, Allmother, and Eir were talking about than leaving the Healing Halls.

The sound of booted feet arriving with haste was preceded by the flap of Munnin's wings as he soared in and landed on the tip of Gungnir, ignoring the smug squawk of Huugin as he nestled back into his perch on the Allfather's shoulder.

“Is he-”

“He will be fine, Tyr,” Eir said serenely, as the grey-haired old general looked at Sleipnir lying on one of the other Soul Forges in the room, “he will need rest and sleep, but he will be fine.”

“...Good,” the general sounded gruff, but Loki thought he heard a rough affection in his voice. As far as he knew, the General _hated_ mages with a passionate distaste and Loki had more often than not had put the idiotic general in place when his solutions to problems involved hitting something. This...this was something new and proved that Tyr must have been part of the coterie the Allfather had formed so long ago. Something in him still twisted with a furious hurt at the knowledge that _Odin_ had a coterie and did not even tell him about it when he had introduced his own hundreds of years ago. But he roughly pushed that emotion aside and watched with a discreet eye and ear as he continued to nudge Jormungandr to wakefulness.

“Heimdall has seen lightning on Vanaheim similar to Mjolnir. I wish you to investigate and report back,” Odin said so quietly that Loki had to strain his senses and nearly cast a spell to enhance his hearing. He stopped short because he _knew_ it would be felt by Eir if not by the others in the room.

“But if _he_ said he is the only one who can-”

“You will speak to no one of this,” Odin interrupted, his voice still a harsh whisper and Loki realized with a quiet start that Odin had already _known_ what he was doing there – more than likely from Huugin on his shoulder or from the fact that his entrance was not as discreet as he thought it was.

He pinched his lips together, knowing that there was no more to be said around him as he gathered up Jormungandr, the snake waking with an abrupt hiss, before leaving. He felt Jormungandr slither and move from where he was gathered in his hand and glanced down to see the serpent give a very human-like shrug of, 'we tried.' Loki rolled his eyes and had to silently agree with the snake – he had tried. But at least he received an answer from what had been happening. Odin had a plan, even if he would not say more of it – and he was at least aware of what was happening. The next question was; to what purpose was Odin's plan? After all, Queen Frigga was right, everything Odin did had a purpose.

* * *

It was just after the hour of the wolf when Loki felt _something_ faint press against the barriers he had on the doors to his quarters. He quickly awakened as he wondered what would press against his barriers before getting out of his bed, drawing one of his daggers with him. The spell had not broken, which told him that whomever or whatever was pressing against it knew the barrier was there. If it had broken, he would have heard and felt the abrupt flash of incineration that would have destroyed the assassin or person there. There had been the occasional assassin who had sensed the barriers surrounding his suite of rooms and had tried to lure him out by other means.

Thor and the other Warriors knew not to barge into his room, his previous barriers only shocking them. These new ones had been created after Fenrir had been dealt with two years previous. Perhaps whomever was on the other side of the door was part of the danger he had sense from Sleipnir, but he did not know as he heard Jormungandr slither behind him on the stonework ground, using his innate abilities as a shapeshifter to grow; making himself larger in order to help subdue whomever was on the other side of the door.

Loki cast his senses out and felt a faint presence, almost as if it was not exactly there, on the other side before he opened the door, Jormungandr ready to strike-

“My Prince,” he barely halted the path of his dagger as the solemn light eyes of Huugin in his human form greeted him, “I am to report to you that General Tyr is dead.”

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

It occurred to him why he felt so  _unsettled_ as he entered the Healing Halls. He knew that he had been expected at the emergency council session the Allfather was holding at the moment, but Loki somehow knew that was not the place to be. No, the place now was here in the Healing Halls, where the unknown quantity named Sleipnir resided after he had collapsed in the private gardens. Besides the sense of danger, the sense of something not quite right with the other man since he had arrived; Loki had a feeling that he was connected to the reason why General Tyr was dead.

Though he did not know what killed the General – the matter more than likely being discussed without his presence at the council session – it had to be connected to Sleipnir; it had to be. The coincidence was there and Loki was no stranger to coincidences nor of happenstance. A quick inquiry to one of the apprentices-in-training revealed where Sleipnir had been moved since his initial examination in the Soul Forge, and Loki rounded the corner, entering the small chamber that had been partitioned with curtains. The Healing Halls themselves had no doors nor quarters to house the wounded, all areas partitioned with curtains. Some of those curtains were laced with different types of spellwork, in cases of silence or even the muffle the pained cries of the dying. But the curtains were there because the Hall itself could easily be turned into a large triage center where mass spells could be cast across the room without interference or the like.

Sleipnir did not look surprised to see him as parted the curtain partitioning his area and entered; almost as if he was expecting it. That in of itself made Loki immediately go further on guard since Huugin had delivered the news of General Tyr's death.

“You come with questions, no doubt, my Prince,” the red-headed man looked paler than normal, but his icy blue eyes were bright and focused. He was sitting up on his bed, the pillows behind him in a makeshift cushion, propping him up.

The statement was a bait; the reply to such a statement ' _are you ready to provide answers_ ' or any variation thereof would have enabled Sleipnir to gain the upper hand. But Loki was too experienced to fall for such an amateurish trick. Instead, he ignored Sleipnir's words and leaned against a pillar near his recovery bed as he cast a ward around the surrounding area. At the same time he saw the other man flinch a little as if he had been slapped across the face before a thin smile appeared on his lips.

“You think I had something to do with General Tyr's death,” Sleipnir said, “perhaps slipped a hidden blade somewhere, even poison in his food during the feast the night before.” The thin smile became a light sarcastic laugh, “Do not worry, my Prince, I am not like Jormungandr. Poison is not my forte.”

“No, it is not,” Loki agreed and saw the minute frown that graced the other man's pale features. “And yet it is something I find curious indeed.”

“Oh?”

“Of why my questions have been thus unanswered,” Loki drew out a small modular from the folds of the spaces-in-between and started to absently play with it. He could feel Jormungandr, curled in one of his pockets, make a small move as if to go towards the magick he had in his hands, but then stilled as if remembering that he was supposed to stay in his pocket. He noted that though Sleipnir had flinched a little from the blatant feel of magicks; his icy blue eyes were riveted to the modular and was following the twists and turns of the icosohedron in his hands as he peeled and added additional skeins and weaves in it. “You know as well as I do that though you claimed to not convince me you meant no harm, but to explain what had made me scour the library in my research about you; it has yielded little to no information.”

“I mean no harm to Asgard,” Sleipnir reiterated a little sharply and Loki allowed himself a small smile.

“See, there it is,” he pointed out and saw him frown, as if he was confused, “something perhaps my idiotic brother would have accepted or even the Allfather and Allmother fooled by sentimental emotions because of your miraculous survival and return. Oh yes, it would be easy except I see the truth behind it.”

“My Prince, I do not know-”

“Only those who realize that they are culpable in guilt would deny harm to anything,” Loki interrupted with a pointed look, “only those who have committed previous acts or would know of such previous acts would say something to ensure the trust of others. You _have_ harmed Asgard before.”

Sleipnir's brow furrowed, making the angles on his narrow face sharper in the dim lighting relief of the Healing Halls. He opened his mouth to speak, but Loki held up a hand, stopping him.

“And I also find it curious that for all of my 'research' for which you seem not to have dissuaded me from, there is not one whit about you or of Sentinels. The term does not exist and though others have told me that it was to have started with you, none gave me the information of _why_ and _how_ . Even more curious is the praises, or lack thereof sung of you.” Loki looked at Sleipnir and saw that the other man's frown was even more pronounced as he finished, “So tell me Sleipnir, _what_ did you do to earn such lack of acknowledgment.”

Sleipnir's icy blue eyes hardened as he glared at him. For a moment, Loki was struck at how eerie those eyes looked – so undeniably familiar and he dared not say terrifying – but it did stir something that he did not want to name as fear in him. He quickly brushed the feeling away and met the glare with a simple gaze of his own, his fingers still absently pulling and weaving in skeins to the containment modular he was creating. It was a pattern he had perfected through muscle memory.

The older man raised his chin to meet his look, “Has it occurred to you that there are some things that are not spoken of in polite company?” His glare sharpened before he gave him a thin-lipped smile, “But of course, you would think that all of Asgard would speak of tales and of glorious battles.”

“Why not? It is such a culture for warriors,” Loki returned the thin-lipped smile with a toothy one of his own, a part of him pleased that Sleipnir had answered him in such a fashion. “Your ignorance could be claimed by your years of exile on Midgard, but your words contradict what you have stated to the others.”

“Oh?”

“You knew of Thor and I for one, know for a fact that the oaf would not keep his mouth shut regarding Asgardian culture. His foolish attempts to integrate his so-called friends, the Avengers, into our society would have provided you with a somewhat detailed knowledge of the current mentality here in Asgard. If you claimed to have been HYDRA, or behind it with Baldr for hundreds of years, then your knowledge of working behind the scenes and gathering information exceeds your capacity for subterfuge and the like,” Loki was ruthless with his words and saw the other man shrink a little, attempting to maintain a calm stony face. “Your knowledge of Asgard is not as dated as you might have led others to believe.”

“And you think me a threat?” Sleipnir asked, but Loki shook his head.

“No, quite the opposite, I think you an opportunity,” he replied, “one of which would enable me to further my goals.”

There was a sudden dangerous glint in the red-haired man's eyes as he pushed himself up further upright on his recovery bed, “I will _not_ be used in such a way. No matter what you goals are _my Prince_.”

Loki only smiled a little, “And there you have revealed another aspect of yourself.” Sleipnir pulled short and looked at him as he continued, “You have already been used in such a way that has left a distaste within you. You understand what it means to be used, and it has revealed a truth in the bland words you have spoken of since your arrival. You understand and you have fought against such use. At least you have confirmed something, that you are this Baldr's familiar.”

The other man shook his head, “Why are you doing this? I have spoken no falsehoods-”

“But not the whole truth-”

“What have I done to earn your ire? To earn this questioning?” the other man finished plaintively before gesturing with a hand around the area, “what have I done to resort to your spellcasting and magick use? Surely-”

“You are not so naïve to think I would fall for such petty tricks. It would have wheedled sympathy out of Thor, but you forget who you are dealing with for all of your vaunted knowledge gathered on your years of exile on Midgard.”

“A cruel, petty _Asgardian_ who thinks himself a _God_ to rule over others,” Sleipnir suddenly spat, “one who casts suspicions upon others when there is none to be had. Paranoid, fear-mongering, who is the one who would start wars? Certainly not Thor, but Loki, the self-proclaimed Trickster God.” He shook his head derisively, “You are _not_ your namesake. _He_ was a better man than you. Noble, self-sacrificing, everything you are not as it is not _me_ that has revealed his true colors, but rather yourself. Lady Sif was correct, you are jealous. I have done _nothing_ of the sort to make you think that way. It is your own insecurities that drive you. You think me to steal the affection of the Allfather away from you, to steal your place by his side, his left hand. You think me to steal away your adopted mother, Frigga. That she was once had loved me as she loves Odin.

“You see me as a threat to your attempts to woo the Court into thinking magick would be accepted, would come back because you seek to usurp the position of Crown Prince for your own gain. You seek the approval of Odin so much that anyone who thinks lesser of you is beneath your notice and time and anyone who dares have Odin's affection is a threat.” Sleipnir suddenly sat forward, “Well, let me tell you Loki Laufeyson, you are no _son_ of Odin or of descent from the House of Bor.”

Loki nearly crushed the modular he had finished in his hands; it stung, it really stung and it _hurt_ to hear such words. He did not know why it felt like that, after all, Sleipnir's opinion of him was merely an annoyance, but somehow, it felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut and left the blade in there. Instead, forced himself to focus on Sleipnir's words, “And another piece of the puzzle falls into place.”

The icy blue-eyed man made a noise to protest before he cut him off again, “As much as I detest Thor, I know him well enough that while he would reveal my adoption into the House of Odin, but he would _never_ reveal who my birth father was. It is knowledge even he does not know about. Even if I were Jotun, the markings on my face would only be known to the Jotuns and their ruler. Tell me, Sleipnir, how is it that you have spent all these years avoiding Heimdall's gaze? Could it be perhaps you walked the shadows of Yggdrasil and spied upon the realms for your lord and master Baldr?

“You could have walked any time your _master_ gave you enough magick. Yet I am willing to wager you walked to the other realms to search out information for him. You perhaps walked to Asgard more than once and only now you have come here for sanctuary,” he finished quietly, watching Sleipnir with careful eyes. Even though Eir had confirmed that his core was ripped out, Loki took no chances that the other man would attack or even retaliate in some manner. Sleipnir still exuded the _dangerous_ air around him, even with his pale visage and seemingly weakened self. “That, is no coincidence.”

That finally got the reaction Loki wanted out of Sleipnir as the other man dropped his head for a long moment, a quiet snort issuing from his nose as he shook his head. His hands curled and uncurled both underneath and above his blanket. He finally looked up and smiled mirthlessly, “It was worth a try, was it not? To at least go to a home I cannot call as such anymore, because it pulls at you, calls to you, forces you to do things, unspeakable ones and those you wish you could gouge your eyes out over; to deafen yourself to the screams and agony of pain that washes across you.”

The older man's smile grew brittle, “I thought that perhaps you might have had the knowledge, but now I see that you are just a boy who plays with the magick arts he knows nothing of. To speak so flippantly and bear no consequence to your actions...you cannot help me and so I realize what I have to do.”

Loki tensed as Sleipnir lifted his right hand towards his chest and held his palm flat against it. A hideously blackened orb of sorts crackling with unchecked skeins of magick that arced miniature chains of seemingly lightning-like bolts, was drawn out from the space in between where his palm hovered above his chest. Loki immediately recognized it for what it was, the swirl of magicks, the oily feeling that wormed deep within himself _resonating_ with what was drawn out. The orb was about the size of Sleipnir's palm as he finished drawing it out and held it in his hand, his icy blue eyes staring at it with an unreadable expression. A geas. Sleipnir had an unfulfilled geas within him judging by how the angry crackle of magicks swirled and lashed out as he held it in his hand.

“Who-,” Loki demanded before he knew the answer, “Baldr.”

“It was he who ripped my core out,” Sleipnir replied softly, staring at the hideous black orb, “gave me this in return.” He moved his hand back to his chest and the orb slowly disappeared, seemingly swallowed back up as it nestled within him once more. “So you see, I did tell the truth, from a certain point of view.”

“And your contract?” Loki asked softly, mildly surprised that his own voice had not wavered in light of seeing someone else with such a hideous-looking contract. He could not help but stare at the place where Sleipnir's orb had once hovered. How could he have missed the obvious signs of a geas contract? He had been evasive with his answers, trying to find loopholes, pathways to avoid all but triggering the painful consequences of going against a geas contract. The other man had been clearly bleeding from the nose after trying to fight it to tell Frigga something in the gardens. Loki himself knew it very well as he had bled from stitched lips when he fought against the agony that ripped through his mind as Thanos mentally shredded it, shredded him to pieces. There had been signs since he had arrived in the throne room; he had just been too blind to see it, too startled like the others to focus on it.

Sleipnir only stared back at him before shaking his head slowly, “Of all the questions you come with, that...is the least of your worries, my Prince. You truly are just a boy, playing at magicks you cannot even begin to comprehend. I wonder what did _she_ see in you to start teaching you the forbidden arts of magisters.

“Do you not know?” the other man hissed as Loki suddenly found his wrist in a vise-like grip, the modular dropping from his fingers as it was twisted painfully against his back. He had not even _seen_ Sleipnir move, and for a brief moment thought it was an illusion that was still lying on the bed when it seemingly dissolved like an after image of sorts. “A geas is blood magick of a personalized sorts, contracts made and fulfilled with whom it was made with.” His free hand drew an abrupt thin _electric black_ line into the air-

_IdontwanttodothisbutImustbecause_

“-and to open the shadows to the voids of Yggdrasil, one must cross one's self. Those who understand this, cross their own cores. But there is another way; to cross one's self, one can easily use a geas borrowing magicks from the other side of the contract, because they would be crossing the inner most self-”

_ImustbecauseImustbecauseImustbecause_

Loki found himself abruptly shoved through, his mind automatically seizing the barest threads that tied him to Jormungandr, a remnant of taking part of his core two years previous, to not lose him in the voids- For a second saw the yawning darkness- That there was nothing there- And just as suddenly emerged out the other side into a dimly lit stonework ground.

_ImustbecausebutImustImustImustbecausebecause_

“-I am truly sorry, my Prince, but you forced my hand,” Sleipnir's whisper tickled the hairs on the back of his neck as the vise-like grip on his arm was loosened. Not even a second later, the feeling of the portal disappeared and Loki drew in a sharp breath. It had happened so fast that he had not even had time to react, his only instinct was to ensure that Jormungandr was not lost in the voids of Yggdrasil in the brief horrifying moment he had seen the darkness envelop them.

“The first sacrifice,” a voice boomed from the shadows beyond the dim light and Loki turned in time to see a mass of jagged red-black shards flying towards him.

* * *

It was as if starlight suddenly burst into supernova behind his eyes and for a second Heimdall thought he could _see_. The glorious beauty of the nine realms seemingly dazzled his all-seeing gaze as was the terrifying awesome power of the Convergeance-

He turned his gaze upon Midgard and saw the flashing cape of red and the familiar blue-silver armor of the Crown Prince, standing stoically next to a man with greying hair and a leonine feature that was unmistakably Baldr. He knew _exactly_ where they were on Midgard. Thor, for once, was not all movement and boisterousness and Heimdall seized upon the chance to call for one of the ravens – _Muunin! Huugin!_ \- before he spotted the jagged red edges of crystalline knives glinting out of the corner of his eyes, through the pale wash of stars far beyond the realms-

It was headed straight for a familiar green-gold-black leather tunic and overcoat, but the second Prince was not his concern as he saw _who_ wielded the Aether itself. He had the light powdery-white skin of his species, the Dark Elves, and his eyes were a pale blue. He had been thought dead when Bor Odinson had razed Svartalfheim for its defiance against Asgardian rule thousands of years ago. The fact that Malekith was alive, wielding the Aether-

And just like starlight suddenly collapsing in on itself, the dazzle he _saw_ died and Heimdall was left wanting. He saw... He- He could not remember what he had seen-

The caw of one of the ravens alerted him to its arrival and he automatically held out a hand for it to land. Drawing his hand back, he saw Munnin with a curious look on his face, his bright black eyes blinking at him, avian head tilted to the side. Heimdall opened his mouth to send the message that he wanted to send-

Which was-

He looked out into starlight once more and thought he remembered seeing a flash of a red cape, Thor, but if there was any sign of Baldr, then he had not seen it yet. And the second Prince- Heimdall frowned...he remembered – or maybe he had seen amongst the stars – there had been red jagged crystalline _something_...but... It was important, but he suddenly found that his memories were muddled, like he could not part the murky starlight. He cast his gaze upon Asgard itself, but found no sign of the second Prince, not even in the Healing Halls where he had spotted him walking towards earlier. Sleipnir was still in his bed, recovering from whatever ailed him to collapse in the gardens.

He thought he had seen Loki... Heimdall frowned. The second Prince was prone to cloaking himself in the shadows and perhaps this was one of the times he deigned to do it – though for whatever reason why, he could not fathom.

As Munnin adjusted his perch on his arm, Heimdall could not help but stare at Sleipnir's sleeping form, a part of him knew that something was not right. Something shadowed his mind and the man he once knew and called a close friend was somehow responsible for it. He had said to the second Prince that Sleipnir _was_ a good man. Whether or not that remained to be seen was another question and the only thing Heimdall knew was that something had happened, something he _should_ have remembered and seen.

* * *

Loki's instincts took over as he rolled forward on the stonework ground, bits of rubble and sharp pebbly rocks digging into him as he met the attack head on with his arm raised. The bluish hue of a shield formed just as the shards of jagged red-black crystalline thing hit. His arm shook from the impact before he dodged to the side to avoid a burst of the red-black shards of crystal. Loki only had the barest of moments to catch his breath before he dove forward, rolling into a crouch and threw two daggers towards the source. He heard them impact something that sounded hollow, but the red-black shards of crystal flew at him again and he lashed out with a wave of magick.

He thought it would shatter the incoming attack, but instead, it seemingly consumed it and he found himself gritting his teeth against the onslaught, pulling his conjured shield tighter around him. He could feel bits of pieces cut into him, but most passed almost harmlessly before the attack relented. He looked up and saw a shadowy figure just beyond the dim edges of light, the bits and swirl of red-black spinning miniature whirlwinds in an outstretched hand.

Loki counted the fingers, five, which meant he was dealing with a humanoid of sorts instead of an alien or creature from beyond the Void. The Chitauri had six fingers, their overlord, the Other gripping his halberd with distinctive hands when he had met him after being pulled from the Void. Seeing that his opponent was faltering for a second, Loki did not hesitate and tried to gather the threads of magick to pull open a portal to return to Asgard when he _felt_ them slip out of his grasp. He reached out and grasped them again, only to find it seemingly dissolving before the shadowy figure at the edges of the dim light laughed.

The laugh chilled him, long, deep, but it was not the booming volcanic drag that was Thanos' mad laugh. This was a deep pitch that somehow sounded lunatic and he glared out into the darkness, conjuring another shield-

Only to slam forward into the ground, a sharp cry of pain emerging from his lips as he felt numerous needles stab into his back. He instinctively conjured a shield above him as the red-black crystalline shards pinged off of his shield. He let loose a quiet hiss of pain, feeling the distinctive slick wetness that he knew was blood dripping from his wounds. As he moved a little, he could feel the pull of torn skin and the chill of the air above it. But the fact that there was no deep-seeded pain meant that the wounds were mostly superficial, though he knew the attack had shredded his tunic and overcoat.

He could feel Jormungandr squirming in his pocket and with one hand grabbed at the pocket he had nestled in, stilling the serpent from doing anything else. Jormungandr must have gotten his silent message as the snake stopped trying to move to help and settled. He did not need for the snake to be caught up in this when he himself could not even see who in the Norns was attacking him in this dark, dank place.

“Impressive, son of Odin,” the voice the laugh had belonged to spoke up quietly and Loki strained his ears as he looked to see more than one shadow hover at the edges of the dim light. There was definitely more than one here, but surely all of them did not have whatever had been attacking him. He could not make out who they were or from what realm they were, but he did note that they moved in near silence. That meant they either had sound-dampening armor or they were of a species that were light on their feet, made to either attack quickly and retreat quickly not for prolonged battles.

Asgardians were the jack of all trades and mages certain knew how to mask their own noises. Jotuns had heavy feet that enabled them to be front-line soldiers as did the fire demons of Muspelheim. There were only two realms he knew of whose inhabitants were light on their feet – the Light Elves of Alfheim and their counterparts the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim.

“Show yourself, Elf,” he pushed himself off of the ground, suppressing the wince and pull of the cuts on his back and kept his shield up with a free hand. Loki dared not draw out his sceptre yet, not wanting to show them that he had an advantage. Again, he tried to grasp at the skeins and threads of Yggdrasil to transport himself out of wherever he had been left by Sleipnir, but like the last two times, the skeins seemingly dissolved from his fingers no matter how hard he gripped them. Loki knew he was visible to Heimdall, but if Heimdall had not opened a Bifrost connection to him to get him out of here either he had far more enemies surrounding him that would be a grave threat to Asgard or that he could not see him – or as he was beginning to suspect, both. The fact that he could not even grasp the skeins of Yggdrasil worried him – but also puzzled him. How in the world did Sleipnir open one up to _here_ in the first place?

“He did say you were clever,” the voice returned from seemingly all around him as Loki looked warily around, the spell for several fireballs tingling at the tips of his fingers. “But not clever enough to know that your useless grasping to open a portal into the shadows of Yggdrasil will have no effect here. The final resting place of the Aether can only be physically found, not by means of magick or of teleportation technologies.”

Loki set himself in a defensive posture, absently tugging at the wisp of the link that he had grasped onto while he had been flung into the portal by Sleipnir. Though he could not open a portal at the moment, he at least wanted to ensure that his escape was as swift as possible and that meant making sure Jormungandr's remnant core skeins were nearby instead of grasping onto it at the last minute. He felt the serpent respond by shifting in his pocket.

He tensed a little as he saw a lone figure finally step into the dim light. He had the pale powdery-white skin of his species, but instead of the familiar brown eyes that Loki had come to associate with the _current_ Dark Elves of Svartalfheim, they were a piercing blue. There was also the shock of white hair and positively _ancient_ armor that the Elf wore. He had only seen armor like that in the various historical tomes he had occasionally read in Asgard's library. Either the Dark Elf had stole it from some clan's heirloom on Svartalfheim, or he really was as ancient as the tomes had described the first Svartalfheim Dark Elves as such. He was inclined to believe the latter only because of what the Dark Elf had said – the final resting place of the Aether.

Many had always thought that the relics in the Vaults of Asgard were just that, relics. Loki was inclined to think that Thor probably thought as the masses did, but he himself knew that the relics were more than that. They were the very weapons Asgard had collected and conquered the nine realms with. Formerly protected by the Destroyer who only answered to the one that wielded Gungnir, Loki had studied each of the relics during times of idleness as well as when he had been learning under Death. He knew of the weapons in the Vaults and what they were; especially of one particular one that Thanos sought two years previous in his attack on Asgard.

The Infinity Gauntlet.

The Gauntlet itself was a powerful weapon, capable of withstanding what it had been made to hold, but it was only that – a defensive weapon without the six gems, or stones, to augment it. The stones themselves had been said to be created at the beginning of the universe, of time immemorial when nothing existed and were the leftover bits of cosmic energy when the universe was done shaping itself. By themselves, the stones were capable of immense destruction as well as construction, each one representing an aspect of the universe. But since they had existed as one before the creation of the universe, there had been a gauntlet of sorts created so that whomever, whatever deity, being, that had created the universe would be able to use it to unmake the universe or mold it in their image.

The records in Asgard's library made no mention of when or how Asgard received the Infinity Gauntlet, but it had always existed in its Vaults. Loki had suspected it was also how the Aether had come into Asgard's possession, but unlike the Gauntlet, which had no offensive capabilities, the Aether had supposedly been kept elsewhere. There was no mention of the Aether being an Infinity Stone in any of the texts that Loki had read, but he had long had his suspicions as he knew there was no way that Asgard would have kept a gauntlet, of all things, in the Vault without some reason. He had long suspected it was perhaps in a pocket of sorts within the shadows of Yggdrasil, impossible to get to by any means, even with his knowledge of traveling the paths and keeping an eye on the skeins and weaves of the shadows as not to get lost and be forever lost to the void.

It was where he had found Thanos, falling from the void only to be pulled into another 'branch' so to speak; Thanos' exile or perhaps imprisonment from when he had fought Bor Allfather before Odin ascended to the throne. Who was to say the Aether was hidden in the same way? This Dark Elf had all but confirmed that the Aether was an Infinity Stone. But it still left the lingering question as to why he was left here by Sleipnir when he clearly intended to make sure he died, or at least did not interfere with whatever he planned for Asgard. He had a feeling that Sleipnir was counting on him to die here, considering the greeting he received.

Which meant that the older man _knew_ that this Dark Elf and his cohorts would be here, at this very exact moment. Sleipnir was somehow in communication with them, but he did not understand why. How did he know the exact moment-

Loki stiffened as he realized how Sleipnir had pulled it off. The man had practically hinted it the whole damn time and he had ignored all signs of it until it was right in front of him. Sleipnir clearly had no magick core, and the remnant magick he had used to transport himself to Asgard was borrowed as confirmed by Eir. But he had compensated by using the _geas_ that had bound him to Baldr, a magick that used the cores of those contracted to it. Geas were blood magick, forbidden magick – just like walking the shadows of Yggdrasil amongst other things. Sleipnir had borrowed the core and magicks of his master through the connections of both by being the virtue of his familiar and the geas and used it to open a portal in his attack on Loki.

But it still did not explain _how_ he was able to open a portal into where the Aether rested; unless the Dark Elf in front of him was lying. But there was an element of truth to what the Dark Elf was saying – for one thing, the ancient armor and general agelessness of his opponent in front of him. The other thing was that it was the resting place of the Aether – now in the hands of the Dark Elf; he had no reason to lie when he had every intention of killing him in a place where there was technically one way to escape.

Running to whatever ship the Dark Elves had arrived in to this place was not an option – even Loki knew that his spellcasting was limited and he did not know how many Dark Elves were beyond the dim lighted area he was in. He could cloak himself, but the more prudent thing was to escape, especially if this place was a maze or something. The tomes he had read hundreds of years ago during his studies mentioned nothing of where the Aether was housed or where any of the other Infinity Stones rested.

So then how did Sleipnir open a portal to a place where it was claimed that no portal could be opened? The only other power that could conceivably nullify the effect the Aether had was if there was another Infinity Stone-

Loki stilled as he realized that Sleipnir _did_ have access to another Infinity Stone. Through the geas he made with Baldr, this mysterious Baldr was supposedly in possession of the Chitauri sceptre. The sceptre which he and others had thought was powered by the Tesseract... When he had been given the weapon by the Other through Thanos, he had only been told that it was a weapon of great power and had the ability to bend the will of others to his own.

He had used it against Agent Barton, Dr. Selvig, and another SHIELD agent during his escape from the facility where the Tesseract had been held. It was not a Tesseract-based sceptre as they had all thought it was.

It was an Infinity Stone if Sleipnir, using Baldr's geas, had indicated by opening a portal into this place.

And Loki realized that he had known all along. It had been the barest whisper of his thoughts, easily pushed aside, yet kept coming back to him like an afterthought of sorts. He had even told Thor that he needed to find it to repay his debt to him to rescue his friends in London. His thoughts soured in annoyance as he looked at the Dark Elf. He knew what he had to do. He had one chance, judging by the curl of the blood-red crystalline shards that were swirling around the Dark Elf in front of him. Whomever he was, he must have taken the Aether into his very being, using his own life force to fuel its destructive power. To what end, Loki did not know, but he was not inclined to stick around and find out.

He had one chance, but was he willing to do what Sleipnir did and use the connection that had haunted him since he had fallen into the void of Yggdrasil three years ago? Dare he open the geas connection to Thanos?

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

The spell for fireballs still tingled at the tips of his fingers as he assessed the situation. Loki blamed it all on Thor's idiotic fault, that he did not bring the sceptre back quick enough like he had asked; that he was too busy saving his pitiful Avenger friends to do what was necessary. But most of all, Loki blamed Thor for  _everything_ in the first place, but especially for Thor, somehow, getting  _caught_ by Baldr who was  _exiled_ to Midgard of all places. It was the highest order of foolishly conceived delusions of grandeur. Because, he knew would not be in this situation in the first place if Thor had just done as he asked and stopped fooling around with his mortal friends.

“Sadly, not clever enough, Trickster,” the Dark Elf shook his head, having taken his defensive silence as an answer.

He saw the barest of movement out of the corner of his eye and leaped into action. He sent a handful of fireballs behind him and saw the light grow brighter. The fireballs impacted several similarly-armored individuals that had faceless masks on as the rest fired. Loki dodged; the bolts of energy from their weapons pinged off of his conjured shield as he threw himself behind a nearby pillar. He took a second to draw in a breath and pushed off of the pillar, throwing several conjured daggers towards the source of the fire, ducking underneath a lash of red-black Aether-powered crystalline attack from the leader of the Dark Elves.

His wounds pulled at him once more as he hid behind another pillar catching his breath for a moment before pushing off of it again. He only got to take a single step before the pillar behind him exploded from a barrage of energy fire and Aether and he tumbled to the ground, gritting his teeth against the scrapes across his tunic and overcoat, sending renewed pain across his back. He pushed it aside as he fired back, a spray of magick slamming into several advancing Dark Elves, sending them flying back with sprays of blood. Loki scrabbled across the ground and pulled himself behind a mound of rubble, his breath catching as he blindly groped for the wounds across his back. He pulled his hand away and stared at it briefly, noting the thin slickness of blood on his fingers. It was not as serious as he had initially thought, but it was still a worry considering he was bleeding.

He wiped his hand messily on what remained of a lapel on his overcoat and placed his other hand against the pocket Jormungandr was squirming about in, quieting the serpent. He did not need his help at the moment, not without having to keep an eye on the idiotic creature just in case he decided to charge into the fray.

“Come meet your death, Trickster Prince,” the Dark Elf taunted from beyond the mound of rubble he was behind. Loki considered sending out an illusion of himself or a ghostly familiar, to confront the Aether-wielding Dark Elf, but decided against it. It was more prudent to conserve his magick. There was no other way out as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, pushing past the pain, pushing past the sounds of boots advancing towards his position. Sleipnir expected him to die here, knew how to get here and Loki knew that the only way to return was either to find the Dark Elves' ship through an unknown amount of forces or to do what Sleipnir had done – draw upon the geas tethered magick of the Infinity Stone that housed Thanos – the Tesseract.

One leeched-off power of an Infinity Stone to open the portal out of the resting place of another. Though Thanos was trapped within the Tesseract, there was no way he could escape, that much was certain. Unlike a two-way door that transported beings and matter from end-to-end as was the purpose of the Tesseract, the Allfather had all but said that the Tesseract could not be open from inside to out nor from out to in unless one held it in their hand. But Loki knew that it did not mean that Thanos was literally sitting upon the source of power that was within the Tesseract – he just could not do anything with it while trapped inside. He had learned from Agent Barton while the agent had been under his control that two mortals by the name of Johann Schmidt and Dr. Armin Zola had harnessed the Tesseract's latent powers for their own seventy years prior to his arrival.

But Loki knew he himself could utilize that power. To escape the ambush Sleipnir had all but thrown him into. It was simple: open the geas connection he had with Thanos...

_...his vision spun as he felt the white-hot lash of pain searing across his consciousness. Stars and bright lights exploded in his vision as Thanos roared his anger and betrayal mentally across their bond – his frozen form cracking as he clawed his way out of his temporary icy prison._

_...the clawing pain that ripped each time he tried to fight against the Mad Titan’s influence over his actions._

Loki forced open eyes he had not known he had briefly shut against the phantom lingering imagined pain, the memory of the pressure of the Mad Titan's mind suppressing his own. The cruelty, the hurt, the pain, the _torture_ that had been inflicted upon him, before he had arrived to conquer Midgard, and even after when Thanos had sought and found him. He suppressed a shudder of revulsion. That bond – he sneered at the term – was nothing to him. An annoyance he wanted to get rid of; an annoyance that Asgard's libraries held no answers.

But it would do, for now.

There was no other way.

Loki let loose a quiet almost-shuddering breath as he squared his shoulders and drew upon the latent magicks from within. A quick check of the thread-bare ghost of a wisp that tied him to Jormungandr ensured that the serpent was ready as he heard more than saw the attack coming for him.

He could almost imagine the red-blacck crystalline Aether reaching out like a hand beyond the stars, trying to snatch him in its sharp, jagged grasp as he spun from his cover, his fingers drawing upon the spaces-in-between and pulled out his glaive. The deep blue stone embedded in its crown burst forth with the howl of a thousand blizzards; the power taken from the Casket of Ancient Winters spraying forth its glacial power. He spun in a half circle, freezing several Dark Elves that had been ready to fire at him, catch some of the energy bolts mid-air with the icy power of the glaive, dropping them like icicles on the ground.

At the same time, Loki reached deep within, the writhing, _nauseatingly ugly_ feel of the geas making him gag and choke as he let it fill him, drawing deep within its nefarious source, diving deeper and deeper into its bottomless all-consuming power, a reflection of his core-

And plunged past the seemingly infinitely-hungry power of _Thanos_ as he felt his heavy weight settle around him, to where he could feel the source of the Tesseract, the power that transported matter and material from one place to another-

He ripped a dark _electric blue-black_ line down the air-

_SoafraidsoafraidfearfearcannotfearbutIamsoscared_

Loki plunged through the shadows of the void just as the Aether, or was it the Dark Elf, howled behind him, sending forth the shards of black-red crystalline chasing after him. He could feel himself choking on bile that surged up within him, the sickness that was consuming him- He was falling again – _No!_ \- falling into the nothingness-

_OhNornswhathaveIdoneIdonotwantthis_

Loki stumbled and found himself in the faint light of the Vaults of Asgard as he turned and hastily closed the portal into the shadows he had forcibly ripped open. Not even a second later, silence reigned in the Vaults save for a hitching sound. He belatedly realized that he that was making the sound and he closed his eyes, suppressing the bile that had risen up to his throat and swallowed the sour taste back down.

He could feel the coolness of the Vaults and the faint traces of runes embedded deep within the stonework as his hands shook to support him. He forced himself to breathe in and out, to calm himself down and slowly withdrew the contact he had made with the geas, burying it under layers and layers of internal spellwork, trying to purge his mind of how it had _felt_. He could feel Jormungandr shifting and falling out of his pocket and not even a second later, a spindly hand tingling with the remnant traces of what had once been healing magick, but was now more the leftover natural shapeshifting abilities.

“I did not give you permission to change,” he growled out quietly, absently wiping away the small amount of spittle he had not known he had dry heaved in the moments of his arrival.

“But Loki you're-”

“I did _not_ give you permission to change,” annoyance flashed across him as he felt the hand withdraw. Silence reigned for a second before he felt something slithering across his hand as Jormungandr returned to his serpentine form. The snake stared up at him from the stonework ground. Much to Loki's growing annoyance, the snake did not look chastised, but rather was staring at him with as much of a narrow-eyed look as a serpent could possibly give at him.

He ignored the look and pushed himself off of the ground, closing his eyes at the brief lingering dizziness of using the geas in such a manner and also opening the portal. His brief fight, though mostly defensive, had drained him of a little of his magick, but the sheer amount of power he had drawn from the geas and Tesseract to open a portal out of the place had nearly overwhelmed him. Loki grabbed at the nearest pedestal for support as he opened his eyes to see that he had opened a portal right next to where the Tesseract was held. He took a few steps to the side, distancing himself from the innocent looking blue cuboid that was Thanos' prison.

A series of loud hisses from Jormungandr made him glance down to see the serpent slithering towards him, growing a little larger, looking more cobra-like than the coloration of a corn snake, before puffing out his hood in an attempt to get his point across. He ignored whatever Jormungandr was trying to imply and plucked him off from the ground, shoving him back into his pocket where the snake immediately returned to its tinier form. His back felt like it was on fire with the sharp staccatos of pain. The wounds he had received burned, but he quickly cast a glamour over it as he headed towards the doors. Sleipnir had woefully underestimated him.

However, he had only taken several steps outside of the Vaults when his vision suddenly whited out with a terrifying dizziness. He had only had a moment to realize that he had underestimated how much magick he had used along with how injured he was, before the ground rushed up to meet him and he collapsed, unconscious.

* * *

In his haste to leave the Vaults, Loki missed seeing the brief flashing change of color from the Tesseract in the aftermath of what had happened.

He had _felt_ the touch, had reveled in the fact that the whelp of a Jotun had actually fully _opened_ the link between them. All of the nudges, all of the subtle hints he had sent along to further his goals since his imprisonment had come to this.

And Thanos, the Mad Titan, smiled.

It was nearly time.

He would have his revenge against the House of Odin. He would bring the Trickster that had betrayed him, to his knees and make him beg for death. After all, there was nothing sweeter than to satisfy his love.

* * *

Hearing always seemed to be the first thing that returned, and he registered the soft wisps of cloth, gentle tapping of feet in the distance. The next thing was the soft scent of healing, of peacefulness. As much as Loki suddenly yearned for it, he pushed past it, his mind registering the lack of beeping machinery that he had associated with the last time- His mind raced to full consciousness as he opened his eyes, staring up at the familiar rose-red hues of the Healing Halls and the gentle smell of soothing fragrances. The last time he had woken up from being unconscious was when Fenrir had viciously attacked him, nearly tearing off his arm. His brief stint of magickal-exhaustion after killing Fenrir did not count as he just needed sleep.

Though he could feel the blankets that covered him, he also felt the crisp, clean tunics he was wearing. But the lack of pain that had seared across his back meant that Eir or whomever had been tasked to heal him had done their job. He shifted a bit and paused as he heard the slight grumbling hissing sound close to his left ear and turned his head. Jormungandr was curled up next to his pillow, seemingly sleeping with a coil draped over his head.

“It was Jormungandr who alerted us to your presence, Loki,” he looked beyond Jormungandr to see Frigga sitting by his bedside, a tired smile on her lightly lined face. She reached out with a hand and gently pulled a strand of hair out of his face. Loki allowed her to do so but drew away at her attempt to stroke his face in motherly affection.

“He is a fool,” he said, not surprised at how hoarse his voice was. He swallowed several times, clearing his throat as Frigga withdrew her hand. He expected her to look hurt, much like Thor always did whenever he tried to do something sentimental and brotherly, but she surprised him by nodding her acceptance.

“Then a good fool,” she replied, “to have sent for help.”

“I am _not_ making him my familiar,” he could easily see where she was attempting to lead the conversation.

“Then will you allow the madness of an empty core to eventually consume him?” Frigga countered with an arched look, “do not think me unused to the ways of magick, my son. I may not be as talented as you nor gifted as Eir or even Archmage Erikur, but I once was a battlemage of some renown. I know of the basics you too have learned. Jormungandr will either need to become a familiar or have his core replaced.”

“Death would have been more merciful for him,” he shot back, but Frigga only shook her head.

“No, my dear boy, spared because-”

“Everything Odin does is for a purpose?” he echoed her words spoken to him four years ago when Odin had fallen into the Odinsleep during Thor's exile. Frigga only smiled faintly, the edges tinged with a bit of sarcasm. “Then tell me this, _mother_ ,” he continued, “what purpose does Odin have for keeping Sleipnir alive? It was he who did this to me.” He gestured towards his back, jostling the pillow and out of the corner of his eye saw Jormungandr blink awake before trying to curl up under another coil to fall back asleep.

“Sleipnir lead the search parties for you, Loki,” Frigga shook her head again, “you were gone from Heimdall's gaze for the last four days-”

“What,” he interrupted flatly, stunned. It had only felt like _minutes_ when he had been fighting the Dark Elves. He pushed himself up, the blankets dropping from his shoulders and pooling at his waist as he felt the tug of still-healing wounds. Sleipnir had _four_ days to continue whatever plans he had in place and Loki had spent at the very least, another day in this Nornforsaken Healing Hall-

“Loki!”

He ignored Frigga's exclamation as he threw the blankets off of himself and stood up, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs. He grabbed the clean clothes that had been left near his bed and changed hastily into them. He could still feel the tug of magick-induced exhaustion biting at the edges of his consciousness. Had there been some kind of time dilatation or spellwork involved where the Aether had last rested? If so, it certainly explained why he had completely underestimated the drain upon his magicks. If he had literally fought for four days straight with no break, even he would have drained his reserves and fallen unconscious. The fact that he had been gone for four days... Loki did not want to think about what could have happened in the four days – what kind of damage Sleipnir could have done in his absence.

“Where is Sleipnir,” he demanded as he fitted a new overcoat and absently grabbed Jormungandr from where he had been resting, putting the snake back into his pocket. The serpent hissed in sleepy protest moving a bit in his pocket before stilling.

“Sent to Vanaheim after your return yesterday. He has taken over the search for Tyr's murderer,” Frigga replied reaching out and grasped the edges of his sleeve, “Loki, you are not well enough-”

“I am well enough, thank you very much,” he shot back, but did not rip his sleeve out of her grasp, his mind racing with the possibilities. Something about her words made him uneasy and it was not that Sleipnir had traveled the Bifrost to Vanaheim...or it was... The Bifrost. “How can Sleipnir travel by the Bifrost when he cannot stand magick?” he had not missed the flinches and looks of a pained longing each time he had spelled or used magick near the auburn-haired man.

“He has endured the discomfort,” Frigga replied softly and Loki turned to stare down at her to see something almost like sad affection flit across her features. Never before had he ever seen such a look on her face, even when he had been ordered to stay on Asgard in an effort to keep Thanos from outright controlling him.

“He is not who he claims to be,” Loki did not like the look, tugging at something deep within him that screamed to be let out, to tell the Queen, tell the woman that had raised him like a mother, that she was being duped. “Do you know who did this to me?” he gestured to his now-healed back as he looked at her, “your beloved Sleipnir. He can use the magick he claims not to have.” He wanted to tell her that Sleipnir had a geas with Baldr, that he was _using_ the geas as a source of magick, but the words that easily came to his lips suddenly faltered and Loki found that he could not speak those words. It felt _wrong_. It was wrong. The words he could easily conjure up and speak somehow felt thick and unused in his mouth. It tasted like ash and Loki reeled at it.

It hit him a second later what was wrong. Sleipnir. Or more accurately, Sleipnir using the amplified power of Baldr wielding the Chitauri sceptre. It had the ability to control the minds of others, to bend them to the will of whomever wielded the sceptre. It was an Infinity Stone, more specifically it was the Mind Gem. Sleipnir was somehow, inexplicably, amplifying its power across the whole of Asgard. He knew what the sceptre did, what the stone of power did. Besides bending and dominating the minds of those it came in contact with, it had a latent power that twisted the thoughts of others; clouding their senses, blinding them to truths that could easily be seen without its influence.

When Agent Barton had requested his help with acquiring the iridium three years previous, he had obliged and allowed Director Fury and the Avengers to capture him. A subtle intricate plan knowing that they would study the sceptre. What the Avengers had not known then was how it twisted their thoughts, turning them against one another – something he had long counted on to slowly bring out the monster that was within Dr. Banner. He had plucked all of the relevant knowledge from Agent Barton and Dr. Selvig's mind to create his plan.

Sleipnir was somehow doing the same to Frigga, to Eir, perhaps even to Odin and Heimdall considering their lack of action in light of recent events. He looked back down at Frigga and saw her in a new light; she would not believe him even if he said the words now – the words that still tasted like ash in his mouth but was slowly being banished now that he realized what was truly happening. It somehow broke like the sun through the clouds of his mind, a sharp painful mental snap that gave him clarity – and in a twisted way, realized that for all of the man's babblings, half-truths, and falsehoods, Sleipnir had told the truth; that he was a familiar to Baldr and that he had a geas contract with the man.

Because there was no other way for him to become such a magick beacon, a power source if you will, for Baldr. Like the ghostly familiars each mage was able to learn and summon, they represented the caster themselves, carrying messages across battlefields and realms that only another mage who spelled it could read and relay. Erikur and the other Healers that had been sent out three years ago to scout and relay advance warning for Thanos' Chitauri invasion of the realms had used the ghostly familiars to such effect. The Archmage's now deceased sister had used one that clearly showed the state of the caster – her bligesnipe snuffling and braying as it circled and slowly died at the same time she had.

A living familiar, was the same concept – except their magick core was replaced by that of their master, siphoning and borrowing the magick to sustain their lifeforce. Those that lost their core or were not bound were as Frigga and others had already said, slowly degrading to the point where madness consumed them. Baldr was using Sleipnir as a living beacon to amplify the usage of the Chitauri sceptre – _his_ rightful sceptre.

Perhaps there had been merit for Sleipnir to escape, but even now Loki doubted his words. Why would Sleipnir have escaped Midgard, only to send him through a portal of the void of Yggdrasil to where the Aether rested when he could have gone himself- Another thought occurred to him as he fought back a sudden wave of dizziness, his body still screaming for rest. Besides intending for him to die by the hand of the Dark Elf that wielded the thing, there had been many Dark Elves there.

An army of them in fact. All ready for an invasion.

Loki had no doubts that Asgard was the target. Sleipnir had expected him to die with the knowledge that an army, wielding the incredible power of the Aether, was ready to march on Asgard. Perhaps Sleipnir intended to open a portal into the resting place of the Aether to transport them. But then how did killing General Tyr factor into it unless...

“It's the invasion point,” he murmured mostly to himself.

“...Loki?” Frigga sounded confused and he glanced at her, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place. As much as he wanted to rail against her, to yell at her that it was her fault, it was the Allfather's fault for trusting Sleipnir, for wanting to believe that people were like they had been, he found that he could not. Instead, he ignored her call and ripped a thin blue line into the air.

_IwillkillhimIwillstophimhemustbestopped_

“Loki! You have not recovered-” he ignored her as she reached out to stop him and stepped through the portal he had created, his heart leaping up into his throat at the sudden blackness and dizziness that washed over him-

_HemustbestoppedhemustbestoppedAsgardcannotfall_

-and stepped out into the golden hues of the Observatory. Just as quickly, he sealed whispering void, and turned to hear the remnant whine of the Observatory powering down. He frowned as he saw that Sleipnir had returned from Vanaheim, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif having accompanied him. That certainly explained why his thoughts had been muddled for a few seconds, unable to speak what he wanted to speak. Sleipnir's influence with the Mind Gem had grown in the days he had been missing.

“Loki, what-”

“At what point did you think I would not have returned, Sleipnir?” he ignored Sif's exclamation and stalked forward, summoning the Casket of Ancient Winters sceptre from the spaces-in-between. “That I would not be able to counter the trap you had sent me into.”

“I do not-”

“ _Don't_ mock me,” he growled out, baring his teeth as he raised his weapon up, daring Sleipnir to strike with the speed he had done so in the Healing Halls. “You _meant_ to let the Dark Elves kill me there, with the Aether.”

“Loki...” Sif suddenly stepped in front of Sleipnir, her weapon drawn and pointed at him and he stopped, staring at her in disbelief.

“Sif, what-”

“You are clearly not well-”

“ _What?!_ ” he could not believe what he was hearing from her and saw out of the corner of his eye, the rest of the Warriors Three also approaching him with cautious steps, their weapons held aloft, but not quite pointed at him. Beyond them, he saw Heimdall staring at them, his golden-eyed gaze unreadable. He heard the distant musical tinkle of several horses approaching across the Bridge itself.

“You were found just outside the Vaults, Loki. We think that Thanos might have used the geas he had with you to influence your thoughts again-”

Loki's jaw dropped with incredulity, a bubbly hysterical _laugh_ emerging from his lips at what he was hearing. He saw Sif twitch a little at his laugh and wiped at his eyes. “You are so very deluded, Sif,” he could not believe what he was hearing.

It was so obvious at what had happened. They clearly believed that Thanos had once again, tried that little trick of his, of influencing him through his waking dreams to try to free him. He had no doubts as to who _spun_ such an incredible tale. It certainly explained the way Frigga was acting just moments before by his bedside. She certainly believed him to be influenced and subtly controlled by Thanos and thus was trying to help him by keeping an eye on him like she had three years ago. He glared at Sleipnir beyond Sif's shoulder.

“You think you could outwit me, you poor deluded fool,” he snarled, his anger rising in him. “You think you could do such a thing and get away with it?!” Clearly, Sleipnir's sphere of influence had spread to Sif and the others if they believed such an outlandish tale. The only problem was, that Sleipnir had spread a modicum of truth in that tale – that he _had_ once been under Thanos' influence by this very method and Loki had been too blind to _not_ see it until it was too late. The mewling bastard did not have to spread a complete lie, only bend a truth and put the kernel of doubt in the others' minds.

He took another step forward, Sif matching his to close the gap in between the crown of his spear to where she stood in front of Sleipnir. Her dark eyes flashed a pleading warning – one he could clearly see for him to somehow remember that they knew each other, even if they were not friends. It might have worked – had he actually been under Thanos' influence, he supposed, but right now, he was beyond furious.

“Get out of my way,” he said quietly, leveling her with a look of pure coldness. “Sleipnir is the one who has deluded you all with his honeyed words. He and this Baldr have been planning an invasion of Asgard with the Dark Elves who have found the Aether.”

“The Aether has been untouched even with the Convergence,” Odin's voice was but a whisper, but it seemingly echoed in the cavernous space that was the Observatory. “Loki, lower your weapon. Sleipnir is not at fault.”

“Can Heimdall see into the resting place of the Aether?” he could practically hear the unspoken words that Odin also thought that it was Thanos influencing his thoughts, using the geas to subtly control him – to somehow use the knowledge of the Aether existence against the Tesseract.

“I do,” Heimdall's voice boomed from his right where Odin stood near him, “I see untouched shadows, rubble littering the area-”

Loki snarled wordlessly and made to move towards Sleipnir again when he felt Gungnir's point being leveled straight at him. He laughed lightly, taking a step back. “After all this time, you finally reveal your true colors, Allfather,” he said softly, addressing Odin even as he kept his eyes steadily on Sleipnir who only stared back, his expression placid, “all of the broken promises, empty words you have spoken.”

“To stop you from making a grave mistake,” Odin replied, “and because I know my son is fighting from within, to rebel against your heavy hand. I have told you this once, end it, between you and I, my sons need not be involved.”

“Thanos does not control me,” Loki tilted his chin up. The mysterious Dark Elf had already moved his troops if what Heimdall just described seeing was true. He had no doubts that Vanaheim was the focus point of the invasion – getting rid of a majority of the mages there before launching an attack on Asgard itself. General Tyr had been sent to investigate and had paid for it with his life; Sleipnir's first mistake in his convoluted plan. If he had kept Tyr alive, then his plan would have been flawless.

He knew what he had to do now. To make all of them see. He lowered his weapon, letting it disappear into the spaces-in-between. As predicted, the others sheathed their weapons a second later. They were all complacent idiots, Odin included. He gave Sif and Sleipnir a faint smile as he heard the Einhenjar that had accompanied Odin to the Observatory approach, the clatter of their armor choing in the cavernous Observatory. He could feel Heimdall's golden-eyed gaze still boring into him, the soft caw of both Huugin and Munnin somewhere in the Observatory. There was no other way, not if Asgard was to survive the incoming invasion. Sleipnir, and by default Baldr, would not have _his_ rightful throne.

He needed to find Baldr.

To do that, he needed to find Thor.

As the Einhenjar approached to escort him back into the Healing Halls or even the prisons considering what everyone else thought of him, he suddenly lashed out. He threw his hands to the side, fingers splayed as a wave of destructive magick burst forth in a circle and sent the Einhenjar tumbling to the ground. The others drew their weapons in reaction to his sudden attack, but Loki knew that they would be too late. He ripped open the thin blue line of the shadowed roots of Yggdrasil-

_AsgardwillnotfallAsgardwillnotfallAsgardwillnotfall_

Just before he stepped through, he met Sleipnir's icy blue eyed gaze with his own, vowing that the traitor would not get away with what he had done. He stepped through, the green-blue-white hues of Midgard rushing at him-

-and landed with a jerk onto the concrete brown-burnished gold coloration of Tony Stark's gaudy tower.

“Loki,” three pairs of eyes, one of whom was the familiar blues of the soldier that was codenamed Captain America, met his own as he sneered at them.

_AsgardwillnotfallThormustbefoundAsgardwillnotfallBaldrmustbefound_

“Where is Thor?” he demanded, his voice hard and angry.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, we've caught up to the Epilogue of “Frozen in Time!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

He did not recognize the dark-skinned man that stood next to Captain America, having apparently been playing chess, a mortal version similar to tafl. But Loki did note that he had a posture and build similar to the Captain; attentive, unconsciously set in a defensive posture almost as if he could push Rogers behind him to protect him. Loki found that thought laughable, as he focused his gaze on the other man that had taken a step forward. It was apparent that he had been sitting in the corner of the open-aired area he had found himself in. He had risen with the languid grace of a predator that reminded Loki greatly of Fenrir. The metal arm affixed to his body radiated traces of magick, which puzzled him. The next thing he noted was that all three sported bandages and healing cuts and bruises. The dark-skinned man sported a lot less than Rogers and the mysterious metal-armed man, but all of them looked like they had just recently come from battle.

“Loki-” Rogers started, but he cut him off with a glare.

“Where is Thor,” he repeated reaching behind him and noting to his faint amusement that both the metal-armed man and the other soldier had stiffened at his movement. He saw the barest glint of metal flying towards him and caught it with an raised hand while simultaneously drew close the whispers of the portal that he had ripped open to travel from Asgard to Midgard. Another quick twist of magick cloaked him from Heimdall's gaze lest he be quickly transported back to Asgard by Bifrost.

“Bucky!” Rogers took a step towards the metal-armed man who had thrown the knife at him before turning back and holding up his other hand, “Loki, Bucky didn't mean to do that-”

Loki only rolled his eyes at the fact that Rogers thought that a little knife thrown at him was going to set him off. He threw it back at the metal-armed man where it embedded itself into the concrete right near his feet. “Spare me your trivialities. Where is Thor,” he repeated, his patience thinning with the lack of an immediate answer.

“We're searching for him-”

His thinning patience slid right into annoyance. They had a _week_ since Thor had disappeared from Heimdall's gaze. A week since the Guardian had reported that lightning had struck as if there had been a battle, followed by a flash of blue and then no more. Loki had little doubt that Baldr had the Chitauri sceptre. He grudgingly admitted to himself that Sleipnir had not outright lied – which would have made it easier for him to detect, being the master liesmith and all – but had shaded the truth until it had been too late to see what his true goal was. He did not need this delay and took a step forward towards Rogers. If he continued on this banal vein, then he would demand answers out of him.

“Wait, wait, Loki-”

He was mildly surprised to see the Captain step towards him, matching his own single-step advancement, instead of stepping back. However, he also caught the fact that the Captain had held a hand back towards the metal-armed man he called 'Bucky.' It seemed more like Rogers did not want him to make any more sudden moves than worried about his own safety.

“Loki, listen, we've been running facial recognition worldwide since we've been at Karpov's, er, Baldr's base-”

“Where is this base?” Loki cut in, tempted to throw up several magick barriers to keep Rogers' other two companions from doing anything judging by the looks he was getting from both. It secretly amused him that they thought of him as such a threat while he thought of them as mere annoyances towards his goal of finding Baldr. He still could not fathom why Thor thought of them as worthy companions; except maybe the green giant Banner who turned in the Hulk, and perhaps Agent Romanov if her skills at wordplay had improved since he had last talked with her. The others, they hated him and he did not care for their feelings towards him.

“A couple of hours due southeast of Strasbourg, Germany in the Alps-”

Loki did not bother to hear the rest as he drew another thin blue line into the shadows of Yggdrasil-

_IwillfindhimIwillfindthemIwillstopthismadness_

“Wait, you shouldn't just rush-”

He only shot Captain Rogers a look before plunging through the darkened threads again, shuddering a little as he thought he lost himself in the inky blackness of nothing- And landed with another jerk into the sidewalk and streets of Stuttgart, Germany in front of the opera house. Shouts and screams of surprise assaulted his ears, but he paid them no attention as he turned and sealed the portal once more. He drew in a breath, twitching slightly at the small pull he recognized as the beginnings of exhaustion, having pulled at the skeins and weaves of Yggdrasil thrice in quick succession; from the Healing Halls to the Observatory, to Midgard, and now here.

He felt Jormungandr stir where he had been nestled into his pocket since his journey from the Healing Halls. He had almost forgotten about him and realized he had absently grasped onto the faint remnants of threads that had once been his core without a second thought – pulling him through the portals with him. No wonder he was a little exhausted, having traveled with someone else through the shadows of Yggdrasil was always precarious and deadly. His only Norn-saving grace was that as an animal form and one without a core, Jormungandr was far easier to transport than Sif had been the last time he had traveled.

“Stay,” he whispered harshly towards the pocket the serpent was nestled in. He had no doubts that Jormungandr was reacting to the magick he was expending to keep himself cloaked in shadow – and by definition, also keeping Jormungandr cloaked in shadow since he was in his pocket. The serpent quieted once more and Loki looked around, eyes narrowed at how many people were starting to crowd around, their mobile phones raised – no doubt to take pictures of him.

He flicked his hand out, ripping the phones and electronic devices from their finger tips and all of them screamed, most running away while others stood in blank shock. Loki used the magick he had and crushed the electronic devices in a staccato of pops, sparking hisses, and oddly warbled beeps. He glanced to his left as he heard the distant familiar sirens of Stuttgart's police already responding to his appearance and shook his head. The Midgardians were still predictable after all these years. No doubt that once they discovered the consequences of the geas contract he had made with Director Fury three years previous was still in effect, they would think twice before coming after him with their pathetic sense of justice.

There was hardly any worry, as he knew he would be finished long before the sirens reached him. He closed his eyes, and cast his senses out towards the south and west of Stuttgart and beyond. In a way it was similar to when he had used it to find any trace of the Chitauri on Asgard when they had been cloaked from Heimdall's eyes. Strasbourg was unfamiliar to Loki, but Rogers had said Germany and so the only place he was familiar with that was in Germany was Stuttgart. He was familiar from a descriptive point of view with the mountain range the mortals called the Alps. Dr. Selvig had described it to him with its geological components and materials when he had been building the containment field for the Tesseract. So he cast his senses out towards the mountain range of the Alps, south, west, and east of the city... His mind brushed past the numerous little blooms of magick. A small part of him was curious as to the variety he felt, some fluid like the river, others static, stagnant, long forgotten wards or attempts at magick that felt ancient. There were wards that were like wisps, trace remnants from ages long before, the shuffling of ancient beings that once fought on Midgard and no longer existed. He could feel the magick of everything and anything around him, and forced himself to concentrate-

There! He felt the faintest trace of magick that belonged to the Chitauri sceptre. It was like a breadcrumb of sorts, the minute faint trace seemingly appearing from the middle of nowhere to where its 'droplet' so to speak grew into larger and larger beads. There were faint traces of the sceptre's unique signature magick in the air above it, but he suspected it was where it had been in transport before being seemingly handed to someone.

Loki knew he could have stretched his senses further, but he heard the faint warning hiss from Jormungandr who had shifted again and cracked open an eye. The snake had slithered half way up his shoulder and was peering beyond the folds of his collar behind him. The Stuttgart police were close then. He would have to continue his search at the place itself. He blew out a quiet breath and prepared himself. Walking the shadows of Yggdrasil to a place he had never been nor seen was almost as deadly as letting himself fall through the void of nothingness. He could easily walk right into a mountain or open a never-before seen path to eternal madness. It was, in a twisted sense, how he had found the Chitauri and Thanos. The roots of Yggdrasil were hidden in shadow for a reason, either banished by Asgard to the madness that was inherent in the voids and nothingness, or allowed for hidden forces to slowly gather their armies for ages. He suspected the latter for the Chitauri and for the Dark Elves that had been seeking the Aether.

He had never tried it before, but his teacher had explained it in theory to him when he had learned how to walk the shadows – to cross one's self. Taking the faint trace of magick that was from the sceptre that he first sensed in the Alps, he drew a thin line into the void, weaving the faint traces of the sceptre's unique and familiar skeins into the void itself-

_Nornsletthisworkletthisworkletmadnessnotbeitisnothingness_

_iHAvesTrINgsBuTNOwIseE_

It sung.

It sung, and Loki wanted to quail at the voice. He thought he felt something crawl underneath his skin, just right under the surface that he could not scratch. His mouth tasted dry. He heard Jormungandr's hisses become more frantic, the voices starting to grow louder- No, or was that the voices outside of the barrier with faint pops- Gunfire?

_iHAvesTrINgsBuTNOwIseE_

It continued to sing.

_IdonotwanttodieyetblacknessfearpainwhywasIbetrayed_

Loki's hand suddenly burned as he snapped out of his frantic frenetic haze with a start to look down to see them _shaking_. Jormungandr was attached to one of them, having wrapped himself tightly on a wrist and sunk his jaw into his hand. He blinked, oddly feeling disconnected for a second before he realized that the Stuttgart police had arrived in full force and had surrounded him, firing their weapons. The bullets had harmlessly pinged off of a shield he had instinctively conjured up. Loki glared at them, before looking once more at the portal and grimaced. There was no going back and plunged through it, the sensation of drowning engulfing him, his heart seizing in panic-

And tumbled out of the portal and into a dirt-packed snowy ground. He rolled twice before coming up into a crouch-

_iHAvesTrINgsBuTNOwIseE_

_OhNornswhathaveIdonewhathaveIdoneIcant-_

He immediately spun on his knees, staring back at the thin line of magick he had come through and with shaking hands, quickly sealed the portal. A second later, merciful silence reigned in the area and faint infantile singing stopped. It was only then that he allowed himself a shuddering breath to emerge from his lips, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden wave of dizziness that crashed upon him. He felt Jormungandr withdraw his bite, uncoiling himself from the tight grip he had on his wrist. He absently cast a basic healing spell on the wound, as the snake slithered to his shoulder, winding himself around his shoulder and rested his head.

He wanted to tell Jormungandr to never do it again, but somehow the words would not come out and instead took a moment to settle his nerves. He sucked in a cool breath of alpine air and opened his eyes once more, taking his surroundings. Evergreen trees sat with broken branches, bark scattered everywhere, snow drifts covering half of them. It was evident that a large-scale battle had taken place here and Loki thought he could see the familiar burnt scorch marks that heralded Mjolnir's power scattered everywhere. The trace of unique magick that was the sceptre was stronger here, he could feel it without casting his senses out. It was concentrated towards the remnants of a half-destroyed building, almost the size of a factory of sorts. Parts of it were caved in and while there was no smoke in the air, Loki thought he could still smell the burning fumes of chemicals and a permeating roasted scent in the air. Bodies, no doubt, considering that several howls of wolves, coyotes, and other animals echoed just then. There were no immediate threats from animals, but it did not mean that the Midgardian predators were hunting inside.

“Jor,” he commanded and the snake lifted his head up, flicking his tongue out before uncoiling himself from his shoulder and dropped to the ground with a soft plop. From there, the snake immediately grew several sizes larger, until his mouth was about the size of Loki's head and his coils large and thick enough to crush any animal that dared attack them.

This large, Loki could see himself reflected in Jormungandr's icy blue eyes, but the snake hissed softly and followed as he started towards the partially destroyed building. The only sound save for the soft howl of the wind blowing bits of snow everywhere was the crunch of his boots against the freshly powdered ground. He could feel trace amounts of the sceptre everywhere. However, he also felt a signature he could not quite identify. It seemingly lay dormant underneath the sceptre's trace as he wandered past the broken branches and twisted bits of metal.

Jormungandr slithered forward towards where a set of double doors was half propped open and squeezed himself through before expanding his coils, the groan of metal scraping against one another before he made a significant hole for him to mostly walk through. Loki ducked under a rebar and entered the base proper. It was dark, with the fading light of dusk settling in and making the shadows of debris longer than normal. He held out his hand and summoned a mote of light. With his other hand, he reached into the spaces-in-between and pulled out a small containment modular and put the mote of light in before releasing it. The drain of magicks from the spell lessened as the modular did its work in spreading out the power as it hovered just above his head.

He followed the trace of magick to where it was strongest and stepped over several overturned chairs and tables along with vast amounts of broken glass and liquids. The room he ended up in after several hallways and two floors of descent upon a rickety ladder, looked similar to Banner's laboratory aboard the Helicarrier as he surveyed the scene. Jormungandr slithered over the glass, crunching it further into the ground as he surveyed the room with his own animal senses. This was where the Chitauri sceptre was stored as he approached the highest concentration of magick and looked past it to see half-broken windows looking down upon a clinical metal area. Half of it was exposed to the elements outside, broken wires and pieces of building material he did not recognize swaying in the wind-whipped air.

He vaulted over the pieces of broken glass and landed the four stories down to the bottom knee bent, a crater forming at his impact. Behind him, he heard Jormungandr slither towards the open glass and stepped to the side as the snake fell and landed a second later with a lot more force than he had, the crater growing. There was the faint trace of magick concentrated around the area as he raised the mote of light higher, casting wide, long shadows. He had landed past the clinical area and down into a hanger bay of sorts if the warped metal of quinjets was any indication. A large battle had been fought here, this much was certain – and it was not the destruction around the area that told him that. He could feel the traces of sceptre magick along with the same unusual one he had felt from the metal-armed man. The Captain's shield had its own unique trace that he had long ago sensed and dismissed, but it was more than likely due to the properties of the vibranium from which it was made.

The only thing absent was the smell of ozone, of Thor's hammer which always lingered in the air long after a battle had been fought. Mjolnir's magick was as powerful as from the heart of the star it was forged in. He had been jealous when Thor had been first presented with such a kingly gift, and at times had wondered if he would be worthy enough to pick the hammer up; but it had never responded to him. If Thor only knew how much power was in Mjolnir. The halfwit had only been using the barest fraction of power since he had received the weapon; though he did consider that time on Jotunheim when they had been running from the bligesnipe that Thor had used a little bit more extra power from Mjolnir than he would have thought possible.

Loki raised his hand and expanded his senses outward, feeling the sceptre's magick permeate through the area before he suddenly started, opening his eyes with a frown and stared upwards towards the cloudy skies. That was not possible- He scanned the area again and a sense of disquiet filled him as he knew what he sensed was not wrong. Every single magick spell cast by anyone left a trace. The highest concentrations tended to drown out the simpler spells, be it on the battlefield or otherwise. The throne room of Asgard was such a concentration point, but it was suffice to say that Asgard itself had so much magick permeating through it that one need not scan it like he had been doing.

Midgard was another story, the _absence_ of such magick more common than those with magick. But there were still traces around that for some odd reason, made it hard for him to find what he needed unless he had known what he was looking for. He had not sensed wrong – besides the Chitauri sceptre emitting a unique signature that he was familiar with, having wielded it before – there was the very rare trace of _portal_ magick. Someone had opened a portal into the shadows of Yggdrasil above where he was. It was also where a relatively high concentration of the sceptre's magick was.

He thought for a moment that it was how Sleipnir had arrived in the throne room, but as he gently corralled the faint trace, he could sense that it was not like the borrowed aspect that Eir had been talking about. No, this was directly from the caster. He blinked, his head spinning a little at the implications. Was it Baldr who did such a thing? But...Sleipnir had claimed that for Baldr's plan to work, Baldr needed him to walk them through the shadows of Yggdrasil. However, he did not have time to ponder as he heard Jormungandr's sharp hiss and looked around, lowering his hand.

Red glowing eyes were moving in the shadows of the mostly destroyed hanger bay. He was surrounded.

* * *

“Tell me why are we going after Loki again?” Tony asked, but Steve caught the hidden wince in his expression out of the corner of his eye. He knew that Tony was still healing from the bruises, burns, and fractured bones he had received a week ago, but had insisted on suiting up.

“We're not, you're back up,” Steve stood near him, but kept his eyes focused on a nondescript point beyond the cockpit window where Natasha and Clint sat. The two were not even remotely ready to go on a mission, but had volunteered to sit in the quinjet as backup.

“Right, but why the hell should we even go after him?” Tony asked and he heard the unspoken, 'why should we even help him this time?' in the other man's tone. His grip tightened on the handhold he was holding onto as the quinjet banked a little, following the jetstream to hasten their travel time.

He had asked Clint to open the throttle on the quinjet, forgoing stealth for speed. After Loki had left, he had immediately known where he was going and had ran inside, Sam chasing after him, wondering what was going on. He had ignored Sam's questions and told JARVIS to prep a quinjet before informing Maria about what had just happened. Maria had replied that she was aware of the situation and the others in the tower had been informed, but had asked what he was doing with a quinjet. Steve had explained that they needed to get to Loki before anything else happened and she had only stared at him for a brief moment before coming to the same conclusions as he had.

When he had arrived at the small helipad where a quinjet was always kept, he had found the rest of the Avengers half suited up, Bucky included. The fact that Bucky was there surprised him, but the others, they were still sporting bandages, slings, and were definitely not mission ready. Surprisingly, Bruce was also there, looking a little uncomfortable in a sea of uniforms and suits, but he had just shrugged and said that this time, the big guy might be needed.

Before he could say a word of protest, Natasha had stepped forward and told him that Clint would pilot and she would be co-pilot and gunner for whatever op he was planning; meaning they knew their limits and would be support to his op. He had designated Tony to stay in the quinjet too, knowing that he was definitely not ready to fly around anywhere in the Iron Man suit. Sam, Bucky, and Bruce would be with him on the ground team.

“Because, if he somehow gets Thor to show up, we need to break Karpov's hold on him,” he answered Tony's question, hearing the small creak of the handhold he was holding on splinter a bit under his grip. He eased up a little, trying not to show the worry he was feeling.

“Maria's saying he's already shown up and caused a ruckus in Stuttgart,” Natasha reported, looking back at them. She looked relatively healthy, but her pale face belied her condition. Her shoulders had been reset since they had arrived back at the tower a week ago, but she still moved with some minor stiffness that showed recovering muscles and structure. Still, she looked a lot healthier than he would have expected and supposed it was probably due to some factor of her Red Room training.

Steve pinched his lips together and closed his eyes briefly before rubbing them as he felt Tony elbow him gently in the ribs. Loki appearing in public was one of the things he was afraid of happening.

“He's probably overloaded Twitter-”

“That's not the point, Tony,” Steve shook his head and opened his eyes, “if someone's asking him about what he did in New York...”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony frown and absently rub his chest, remembering what had happened the last time he had confronted Loki about New York. “Well...shit, he's still got that stupid geas with Fury right?” Tony muttered, looking away before giving a frustrated sigh. Steve could only nod and the other man swore quietly. He and Maria had figured it out first, but now that the other Avengers knew it was only a matter of time. Even though the geas that had been made with Director Fury the first time around had technically been completed, Steve did not know if its effects were still active. Loki never told them much about geas, only that if its specifically worded contract was not completed, then the person who made the geas would drop dead. If the person had died in some other manner before the geas was completed, then it would still be considered and incomplete geas and the spell or whatever it was, still in effect.

Loki had bargained for the lack of punishment from the world nations or whatever powers that be, for his actions in New York. Director Fury had ensured it with SHIELD's power and reach. But since SHIELD fell and Fury was in hiding, he did not know if the contract's effects would be null and void and did not want to take the risk. Natasha reporting that Twitter, or whatever social media function that people took their news these days was already reporting about Loki...would there be a mass of dead bodies from individuals or governments who wanted Loki to pay in some way for his actions in New York?

“That's fucked up,” Clint growled from where he sat in the pilot's chair, his voice tinned over the comms.

“Maria's on it,” Natasha reported again and Steve nodded grimly. Maria was good at damage control and she was one of the few who had inside knowledge about Fury's former operations and had been present when the geas contract had been made regarding New York City.

“The sooner Psycho is back home on Asgard, the better off this will be, right?” Tony smiled thinly at nothing in particular.

“Steve, you don't think that if Karpov shows up, he might try the same thing to whatever he did with Thor, do you?”

Steve turned, staring at tail end of the quinjet where Bruce sat, still worried about the Hulk and not comfortable enough with the Hulk to let himself risk sitting in further in. Bucky sat across from him, arms crossed, eyes closed and seemingly asleep, but Steve knew his new body language well enough from the last few harried weeks that he was paying sharp attention to Bruce's question. Sam two seats away from Bruce, hunched over, but was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

He pressed his lips together. Bruce's question was deceptively calm, but he also knew why the doctor had asked it. Of all of the Avengers, there was probably one, maybe two that knew Loki's mind more than how he presented himself. Even then, Steve suspected the inner knowledge was not as in-depth, Loki always hiding something. Natasha was probably one; Loki allowing her to keep an eye on him when he had been plagued by the waking nightmare of Thanos ready to mentally pounce and control him through the geas three years ago. Loki had all but said that Natasha was an adequate substitute for Thor's presence. But the first person he had designated as an adequate substitute was Bruce. Of all of the Avengers besides Thor, Bruce probably knew Loki the best. Steve did not know what kind of mutual understanding Bruce had with Loki, could not even begin to fathom it, but he knew that it was definitely not friendship. Allies would be stretching it, but as he stared at the good doctor, he could see that Bruce understood like no one else did; at least like no one else until they puzzled out most of who Loki was.

There were many adjectives Steve could come up with for the self-proclaimed Trickster God, all of them not friendly or even remotely polite, but on some level, he understood. And that understanding had not come until that deceptively blue stone on the Chitauri sceptre had hit him and he had lost himself. Because in that moment, between losing himself and having his mind forcibly suppressed, he had seen something utterly terrifying, something he knew he should have known.

“Well, considering he'd probably blow us up to kingdom come, he could do the same with Thor right now,” Tony pointed out, glancing back and forth between him and Bruce, “come on...you guys seriously want to actually _help_ Loki? Again? I mean, it's bad enough we had to do it twice, but seriously, remember Odin? Asshole? Kind of didn't exactly care for us when he made that half-assed treaty, treatise thing? I mean, yeah, it's going to be bad if he gets control of both Loki and Thor, but I'd rather him control Loki than Thor.”

“Or controlling no one,” Steve said quietly, “I wouldn't wish that on any of my enemies, Tony, not now, not ever.” He did not want to believe what he had glimpsed, perhaps part of Karpov's plans, maybe of his mind, but he thought he had seen Thanos.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Singing portals into shadows of Yggdrasil are bad.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

They slowly emerged into the light cast by the mote. Loki saw that they were seemingly mortal; dressed in the black military-style uniforms of one of Midgard's many self-proclaimed military forces. He shifted his feet a little, summoning his glaive to his hands from the spaces-in-between as he noted the distinct stylized patch of a skull with many arms from it - HYDRA. He sensed a foulness of sour magick from them, as if it was artificially placed, sickening them from within. There was something not quite right with the mortals that surrounded him. He received his answer as he saw some of their skin glow, as if molten lava of sorts surged just underneath it. The sour taste of magick seemingly hummed a mournful tune, if it could have actually done so, as if it was not a natural thing and caution whispered in the back of his mind.

Jormungandr's loud hiss echoed in the cavernous space, his body crunching over freshly fallen snow and debris as he slithered his way next to Loki. His head twisted this way and that as his skin darkened and became more cobra like, the flare of his hood and rattle of tail warning the unnatural soldiers not to come any closer. The soldiers were silent as they continued their advance and just before he saw the tense coil of glowing muscles, ready to strike, he struck first. He fired a blast of arctic air with the glaive, the cool rush of a thousand ancient blizzards freezing several soldiers in place.

At the same time, Jormungandr flicked his tail towards the frozen mass, shattering it into tiny pieces as bits of frozen blood sprayed into the air. Loki dodged the sudden rapid firing of automatic weapons, blocking several bullets with his shields as he twisted underneath the first punch thrown at him. He slashed his glaive downwards, cutting through muscle and sinew and thought the soldier dead when he saw the skin seemingly turn molten red-orange and seal up, nearly trapping the blade of his glaive in its wound. Loki only pulled the blade out in time as the wound healed and the soldier-like creature flung himself at him.

He burned.

It was like someone had taken his hands and body into the fires of Muspelheim as he reacted on instinct and broke through the crippling bear hug twisting out of the grip and quickly stabbed the creature in the chest several times with a conjured dagger. A swift kick to the creature's chest sent him flying backwards before Loki fired his glaive, freezing him just before he impacted the remnants of a quinjet and shattered into pieces. He summoned a jet of water from the remnants of dripping pipes and flung it at the incoming soldiers, all of them glowing now, their eyes inhumanly hungry. Jormungandr roared, a high pitched whine that half sounded like bricks dragged across steel plates. It was at odds to the serpentine creature he was, as he flattened, rolled, and twisted his body this way and that, flinging soldiers that ran at him like rag dolls.

Loki quickly fired swift bolts of icy power that followed his water trail, freezing and disabling the soldiers that had charged at him. He ducked and rolled under the blow of another, only to feel himself slam to the ground by a very strong kick and faltered for a second, unable to believe that such a puny _mortal_ could kick him like that. He paid for his moment of distraction as burning hands grabbed his shoulder and Loki growled, twisting out from the grip as he slammed the butt of the glaive into the offending pair of hands, sending the seemingly creature-like soldier into the air. He sent sharp black crystalline-like knives into the soldier, ripping him to shreds before pivoting on his foot and cleaved another in the head.

Loki watched the half-second it took for the wound to seal over as the soldier only gave him a bloodless grin, half of his eyes and skull broken, but only smiled in return as he flung the soldier around with his glaive, his arms pulling at the extra weight before he ripped the blade out again and the soldier crashed into two of its kind, sending them away. He only had a moment to catch his breath as a sudden wave of dizziness assaulted him before he righted himself and fired off several blasts from his glaive. He could feel the acute magick drain on him, and looked to see Jormungandr busy fighting the soldiers that had surrounded him, much more intelligent than the mindless beasts he had thought they were.

They were dodging around Jormungandr's coils and he knew that the serpent would not grow any larger, lest risking the collapse of whatever was left of the hanger. Jormungandr hissed and screamed, angry that his attacks were slowly being thwarted. Loki gritted his teeth and glared around the area, the glowing eyes, seemingly growing in number as he held his glaive in front of him in a defensive manner. He had woefully underestimated whomever had set this trap. These were not ordinary mortals, their unnaturally glowing skin attested to that as well as the sour taste of magick that he could feel in the air, but the fact that they hit almost as _hard_ as Captain Rogers. Rogers himself put up a good fight when they had clashed at Stuttgart three years previous, but these...creatures' touch burned things, much like the fire demons of Muspelheim.

He had faced far worst than a mindless mob of mortals clearly after him, but Loki also knew that he had the full advantage of his magick at his disposal. He could see at least five of them trying to surround him and made his decision. “Jor!” he shouted as he spun quickly. At the same time he fired the power of the Casket of Ancient Winters in a wide circle, freezing the five in place. Loki was not done yet as he pulled the lighted mote above his head towards him and grabbed the modular before slamming it into the ground at the same time with the butt of his glaive, sending the explosion of spellwork crisscrossing the remnants of the hanger bay.

The light around him darkened as Jormungandr hastily coiled his body around him, his head hovering just above as the spellwork rumbled across the broken ground. Tremors immediately wracked the area in a concentric wave. Loki saw the frozen creatures shatter and burst into congealed blood and pieces of flesh before the earthquake-like wave started to shake the rest of the area. Spikes of ice shot up from the ground as the earthquake traveled outward. Sparks of electricity and screeches of metal shook the area as Loki poured more magick into the remains of the lighted modular and sent the world-freezing power of the Casket of Ancient Winters into the utter destruction of the base. He could feel the drain acutely now, the dizziness that threatened to send him to the ground, but ignored it as he felt the base implode around him and Jormungandr. The snake's coils tightened around him, dimming the amount of light he had, but he ignored the snake's concern. When he was sure the base was destroyed, slowly released his hand from the modular, the remnants of the mote of light burned into a destructive rune on the ground.

He opened eyes he did not realize he had closed when he had cast the spell as he heard and saw Jormungandr's large coils slowly loosen around him. He realized he had all but knelt on the ground and slowly stood up. His breath came in harsh gasps, the cool air of the Alpine mountains blowing small crystals of water as the dim moonlight shone through what remained of the partially destroyed hanger bay. As Jormungandr's coils finally loosened enough for him to see, he saw that the base was utterly flattened, the treeline and snowy hills visible from where he stood.

There was no sign of the glowing red-eyed creatures that had attacked him.

Loki let loose a quiet shuddering sigh before he staggered and slammed the end of his glaive into the ground, trying to steady himself as his world spun. He felt like he was about to throw up as he dry heaved, nearly falling to the ground. His hands gripped the intricate grooves of his weapon as he took heaving breaths, the creep of exhaustion hitting him full force.

“L-Loki-”

He had not noticed when Jormungandr had shifted to his human form as he felt the pair of spindly hands grip his shoulders tight and hissed slightly when they came in contact with the burns he had received from the soldier-creature that had managed to grab him earlier. He could feel the half-melted metal plates of a casual armor that had protected him ride against his skin, cutting the wounds and burns deeper.

“Loki-”

Whatever concern Jormungandr was about to say was lost as howls filled the air. Loki managed to look up to see the nearest pile of rubble shift as a red-orange glowing hand managed to free itself. He turned to see the metal and concrete piles of rubble around him shift, more glowing hands and arms making themselves known as the inhuman creatures seemingly came back to life. “Jor-”

“You are exhausted-”

“I know my own limitations,” he roughly pushed Jormungandr's hands off of his shoulders and pulled himself up, leaning heavily on the glaive. Jormungandr could not heal him, not without his core, yet he persisted by attempting to put his hands on the burn wounds on his shoulders. The former Healer was an idiot for not remembering that _he could not do anything_. Pushing that thought to the side, he glanced up and around him, looking at the trees before he formed a plan in his mind.

“The trees to our left-”

“But Loki-”

“You will trigger an avalanche-”

“I am not leaving you to be attacked by these creatures-”

Loki had enough as he spun and glared at the icy-blue eyed young man who was staring back at him with a defiant expression his face. “You will do as I say and as I ordered, Jormungandr. You _will_ obey my commands.”

He saw the defiance wilt away as Jormungandr nodded, lips compressed together. In the blink of an eye, Loki saw the icy-blue eyes turn reptilian as he reverted back to being a snake. Jormungandr only gave him a long look before slithering away, his smaller form tunneling through the snowbanks as the glowing red-eyed creatures finished unearthing the rubble around themselves. Most of their uniforms were tattered remains, but the exposed skin they showed had veins that glowed and seemingly sent pulsating waves of red-hot heat towards other parts of their bodies. Some had limbs that were slowly regenerating while others had cuts that were healing.

There were certainly a lot less than before, but as Loki slowly straightened, pushing away the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him, he knew that they would still be more than a match for him, especially in his weakened state. His collapsing of the base itself at least did more damage than what he could have done wasting his spells. He dared not pull at any spells as he gripped his glaive defensively, taking one step back, his senses alert for an incoming attack.

He only got a whisper of a warning as he suddenly ducked and rolled forward, the air above his head filled with the blurred sight of a familiar red-white-blue shield as it slammed into the first soldier that had leap at him. He swept the blade upward, catching another as it sliced the person from navel to throat, spraying blood into the air. At the same time, he heard the rattle of many bullets being fired as well as the familiar whine of the man of iron's repulsor blasts. The air filled with a humming noise and gusts of wind blew the snow this way and that as the Avengers joined in the fray. Loki spun and saw the flash of silvery metal followed by several sprays of blood into the air as the metal-armed man cut his way through several of the soldiers, moving with lethal and brutal efficiency that Loki had thought only belonged to Agent Romanov. There was also the speed of his movement, something he thought only belonged to Captain Rogers as the red-white-blue clad man grabbed his shield as it rebounded and threw it again, running to punch and break the neck of another soldier.

A quick look above showed the matte-black quinjet, almost blending in with the night sky, hovering above them, the bobble of red hair telling him that Romanov was in the gunner's seat while the familiar grim face of Agent Barton was the pilot. He half expected to see the red-gold armor of Stark's flying about like an annoying gnat, but instead, the sudden swooping of another creature nearly made him fire off a spell except for the fact that the sudden spray of bullets downed one of the creatures that had been running towards him.

“Whoa, hey, friendly here!” the winged-man said before he flew off, strafing two of the glowing red-creatures. They were forced to duck and paid for their inattention as they suddenly became two bloodied stumps on the ground, the very familiar green-form of the Hulk unceremoniously smashing them into the snowy dirt and concrete remnants of the base. Loki took an involuntary step back as the ground shook from the force of the green monster's blows. He had not been this close to the Hulk since...well, since that time at Stark's tower.

“Loki, behind you!” Rogers' shout carried across the battlefield and he turned in time to ram the blade of his glaive into the gut of a soldier, before he twisted and climbed the leg and chest of the other soldier, back-flipping as he used his momentum to fling the soldier that he had gutted high into the air where it was blasted to pieces by two of Stark's repulsors. He turned in time to see the soldier he had used as a climbing apparatus fall to the ground, knife embedded in the man's jugular. Beyond him, the metal-armed man only spared him a quick look before glancing beyond his shoulder. Loki turned as he heard the distant rumble growing louder and was pleased to see that Jormungandr had started the avalanche as asked, a wall of white coming towards them.

“Holy shit! Avalanche!” the man with improbable wings shouted above him and Loki saw that he was about to dive down. He realized that the man with the wings was going to try to pick either Rogers or the metal-armed man up and waved a hand at him, sending a gust of conjured wind and making him fly higher before he conjured shields around the others on the ground just as the wall of white slammed into them.

Loki dug the end of his glaive into the ground as the snow roared over them. He choked as he felt like something snap in the back of his mind, the dizziness nearly making him lose his grip on the glaive itself before he ruthlessly pushed it aside and focused on the shields and keeping himself steady against the flow of the avalanche. After a few minutes, he could feel the flow stop, the pressure on his shields lessening, but he did not release the others from their shielding as he lowered his own. The blast of cool colder air hit his face, as silence reigned around him, the snow banks nearly his full height.

He heard the distant muffled roar of the Hulk and something in his mind rattled against the green monster smashing against the shielding that held him in place, but Loki ignored it as he brandished his glaive and extended his arm out. The curved point of the blade nearly touched the edges of the snow bank that had built up against what had been his shield. He could feel the incredible power of a thousand ancient blizzards at the crown of the glaive, just waiting to be unleashed. The glaive was like an extension of his arm, as he felt it melding with him, waiting for him to use it. However artificial, it was something he could not draw from, but rather channel, but the relationship was seemingly symbiotic. He hated ice magick, abhorred it. Hated what the glaive represented, what all of the snow and ice represented, but did not deny its usefulness. It waited...

And he waited...

And as the precious seconds ticked off, he watched the snow that surrounded him, waiting. A heartbeat later, he felt the corners of his lips curl up in an anticipatory smile. He could see the first glow of red a few feet away as the glowing-red creatures burned their way through the snow. It would be a fatal flaw of theirs as he gently touched the edges of the embedded stone to the snow and felt the slightest sliver of power from the Casket of Ancient Winters' glaive travel hungrily through the snow, seeking the target he guided it towards. He could tell the moment the melting of snow refroze into an immovable icicle, the subversive power of the dark blue gem crawling into the veins, hardening them, freezing the blood-

And just like that, Loki allowed the power of the glaive to _suck_ in all of the snow that had poured upon them in an avalanche, the howl of power swirling around the point- Just as suddenly, all that was left was the hardy pine trees, shielded Avengers who were on the ground, and the frozen forms of the remaining soldiers that had attacked him. They looked like indelicate ice sculptures, their forms twisted by the blood he had frozen. It was how he had been able to freeze their blood, using the snow-melt that lingered on their bodies and wounds, generated from their melting, to kill them.

He released the shielding on the others, all of them staring at the carnage about them. He could feel the bone-deep exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin and leaned a little on his glaive. He just needed a chance to catch his breath before facing the Avengers- Just to close his eyes for only a moment as he heard Jormungandr's form slither from the tree line across the snow behind him- Just needed to-

His last brief thought before the black oblivion of exhaustion was that Thor would probably berate him for his idiocy at over extending himself with his magick. Maybe Thor had a good point...

* * *

There was something admirably disturbing with how Loki had killed the last of the Extremis and Centipede soldiers that had apparently been waiting in ambush in the remnants of Karpov's base. Natasha pursed her lips a little as she studied the twisted...sculptures...for the lack of a better word, the quinjet dipping a little as Clint landed it, the skirmish apparently over. A sinewy movement to her right made her glance beyond Loki to see something _slithering_ towards him and she opened her mouth to warn the others when just as suddenly the Asgardian collapsed to the ground.

“What the-” Natasha tapped her radio off from whatever Stark was about to say as she hurried out of the cockpit and down the ramp, mindful of the pull of still healing muscles and wounds. She skidded to a stop in time to see that a very large cobra-like snake, of all things had curled around Loki, its head the size of at least Steve's shield.

“Nat, stay where you are-”

Natasha felt the slight thrill of fear as the snake whipped its head around to look at her, its hood flaring with anger, the rattle of his tail a clear sign to not come any closer as Steve and James stood a few feet away from it. James looked tense, and Natasha knew that he was trying to find some sort of weakness in a snake that large while Steve looked rather concerned.

“Hulk, stay,” Steve suddenly turned as the Hulk lumbered up, a growl issuing from his lips as he shook the ground. The large snake whipped its head back around and hissed angrily, flaring even larger at the Hulk's approach.

“Snake not smell right,” Hulk growled out as Natasha heard the clomp of Stark's boots and the faint draw of Clint's bow as he primed an arrow. Above them, she could imagine Sam prepping his machine guns, ready to rain fire down on the creature.

“No, wait, Hulk, stop, don't provoke him,” Steve held his hand back to the Hulk who took one lumbering step forward before huffing and standing down, obeying Steve's orders.

“Him?” Clint asked behind Natasha and she risked a quick look back to see him not quite pointing the arrow at the snake, but more towards Loki's prone form. The eerily similar sceptre-like glaive he had been holding was next to him, its dark blue stone seemingly clouded with hidden power.

“Jormungandr?” Steve took a tentative step forward as the snake hissed, fangs bared and dripping with something that smelled like a very familiar poison.

“Steve-” Natasha recognized the scent, having breathed it in first two years ago when she, Steve, and ex-Agent Grant Ward had been trying to find the leader of the rogue HYDRA cell in Washington D.C.

“Cap-” Tony started.

“Jormungandr, right?” Steve ignored all of them as he took another cautious step forward and Natasha saw James' brow wrinkle in concern as he made an abortive move to stop Steve from moving forward.

“James, don't-” Natasha realized that James did not know the situation and was reacting as if the serpent was a threat – which in this case it probably was – but also realized that the serpent, if it truly was Jormungandr, he had not made a move against Steve yet.

“Bucky, stand down. I'm all right,” luckily, Steve turned his head a little and waved James down, who stopped his movement, but had a frown on his face.

“...Steve...” in the week since they had returned from this very base, James had not even addressed Steve by his name; nor did he address Steve as “the target,” even though he proved he was capable of holding regular conversations.

“It's okay, Buck,” for a moment Natasha thought that Steve was going to expose his back to the snake, allowing him to strike with impunity, and it seemed that James thought the same, but instead, Steve surprised them by waving James off while keeping an eye on the snake. “It's okay Jormungandr. We're not going to hurt Loki. The fight's over, we just want to make sure he's okay-”

“He is _fine_ ,” Natasha could swear that she blinked once and the snake had disappeared, leaving the familiar gangly human form of Jormungandr looking not even a day older than when he had been in chains in the Allfather's throne room, receiving his punishment. His dark hair was just as unruly and his chipped icy blue eyes still defiant, his thin face and angular cheekbones morphed into a snarl as he glared at Steve. “We do not _need_ your help! He just needs rest-”

“Jormungandr, we're just offering a place for the two of you to recuperate-”

“Wait, we are?!” Tony squawked behind Natasha and she glared at him to shut up as Steve blithly ignored Tony's protest.

“You're injured, and you need at least some treatment-”

Jormungandr wiped his light brown jacket across his face, streaking it with blood that Natasha realized was probably from a well-hidden head wound. She also noticed that parts of his clothing were ripped, blood dripping from cuts and gashes he had received. Those same cuts had not been visible when he had been a snake, but she realized that he must have somehow hidden them with his large serpentine bulk.

“If you and Loki need to find Thor, we can at least help-”

“Your resources are of no use-”

“At least the two of you can recover in a _non-hostile_ setting,” Steve took another step forward, putting him at least within arm's reach of Jormungandr. Natasha was a little worried; this close, if Jormungandr turned back into the large serpent that had been hissing at them, he could easily strike Steve and potentially poison him again. Steve had only breathed in the poison like she had – if he had been bitten... “We're also trying to find Thor. Director Coulson's offering the resources of SHIELD.”

Natasha knew that Coulson was patched into their comm lines, having done so as soon as Steve had ordered Maria to prep a quinjet. He must have asked Steve to put forth the proposal, even though SHIELD was technically operating on very low manpower and resources. But she also knew that both Jormungandr and Loki did not know of the circumstances of what had happened in the past two years – Thor's conversation with her, Steve, James, and Agent May over a week ago indicating that never told anyone on Asgard what had happened to SHIELD.

“This is not a surrender,” Jormungandr seemed to deflate as he took a small step back, looking smaller than Natasha thought possible. Something in his expression reminded her of a lost child, clinging onto the remnants of what was familiar.

“It never was, Jormungandr,” Steve nodded once, before reaching over and picking up the glaive and handing it to the young man. She watched as he took it and clutched it close to his chest, as if he could seemingly absorb it into himself. He looked so child-like and so lost that Natasha thought she saw herself in him...and that disturbed her.

* * *

He floated high above the field of battle, now awash in a heap of snow and logs of trees that had not survived the avalanche. The familiar hum of Mjolnir kept him aloft as he watched the tiny forms of the humans called Avengers scurry about, carrying the one who wielded magick into the flying contraption he knew as the quinjet. The others took a moment to sweep the area for any further hostiles before boarding the quinjet. Moments later, the flying contraption rose into the air and sped off, back to its home base.

He knew he could easily strike them down with a bolt of lightning from Mjolnir, and part of him _wanted_ to. It would be so easy to see the contraption fall from the sky, killing almost everyone aboard. The green monster would survive, and perhaps the snake-man. But everyone else would be dead, including the magick user. He was a powerful one, but had clearly exhausted his own power. Something in him wanted to rail against such use of power, that the magick user was an idiot for over-extending himself in such a fashion. That he should not have pushed himself so hard, to let the others finish the fight for him. The green monster could have easily mashed the Extremis soldiers into pulpy messes and used the Centipede ones for target practice. The magick user did not have to prove himself to the humans, to him...to make him see in the skies and stars above.

Then the magick user collapsed and he felt like he wanted to rush to his side, to shake his head and berate him for doing such a foolish thing. That they were once...brothers? Was it brothers? Were they brothers? That he was the stubbornest idiot in all of the Nine Realms and as much of a powerful display it was, it was also foolish for him to do such a thing. He had open portals, a feat in of itself most dangerous and took the most amount of magick. He knew that for a fact because he had walked through several...had he? It was a feat to walk through the shadows of Yggdrasil once, but the magick user had done it at least twice in succession. He had seen him in the glittering city he knew as Stuttgart, had seen him pull at something in the skeins and webs he knew the magick user always talked about while he pretended not to understand. He had seen him walk again, pulling the snake-man with him.

The trap had been simple, his master, his glorious master to whom he would serve until the ends of the Earth and beyond. His master whom was generous to give him this, to let him watch- His master _wanted_ him to watch, had said something about suffering and doing nothing, but he did not understand his master's words, could not comprehend them because there was nothing but the master's commands. He had watched and he had been instructed not to act. He had been instructed not to act for all of the times the magick user had been hit, attacked, had his blood split. He had watched and had not understood why.

The magick user had fought back, and perhaps there had been a lesson in such an observation, that he would soon be able to fight this magick user, to see him fight even though somewhere deep within – he had fought the magick user before. Right? He had fought him countless times? That he knew when he was at his limits and perhaps when he pushed past them? But surely his master did not want him to watch such a meaningless slaughter? His master had set the trap and he thought that it was perhaps he needed to ensure that it was sprung, that the magick user would know the folly of walking into such danger – he was the stubbornest idiot in all of the Nine Realms.

He puzzled over that extraneous thought. It had been...affectionate? Brotherly?

And somehow, he wanted to rail at it. He wanted to bang his fist against an invisible barrier of glass that he knew was seemingly unbreakable. That he wanted to stop each bullet from piercing the magick user's body, to stop the hiss of burns...that it was...

Wrong.

But was it?

 _Come_...the whisper touched his mind and he obeyed, spinning Mjolnir harder as he drew his red cloak around him, his blue-silver armor clinking as the plates adjusted themselves to his movement.

Thor flew off, summoned by his one-and-only master's commands. And somewhere very deep inside, he raged and wailed against what he had been force to see.

* * *

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

“He's pretty much asleep,” Dr. Banner turned to Phil Coulson as he left the readouts from the hard-light projection up in the air. “Didn't want to risk waking him up by putting electrodes on his head to read his brain activity.”

“No need,” Coulson shrugged, as he stared at the live monitoring readouts before glancing beyond the observation window to the sleeping form of Loki. “What about the snake, Jormungandr?”

“Refusing to leave his side,” Banner gestured to the corner of the pillow where a mass of coiled serpent laid; looking like, for all purposes, a deceptively tiny thin-whipped corn snake. One could even call it a 'pet-sized' version if they were kind, but were in for a very rude awakening if they even attempted to get near Loki – Dr. Banner not withstanding – the corn snake would morph into a white cobra, hissing and spitting real poison. Sometimes, the corn snake turned into a ball python, still deceptively tiny, but more prone to squeezing fingers off of anyone that dared reach for either Loki or himself.

“But he allows you to go near,” Coulson glanced at Banner who shrugged.

“Jormungandr only agreed in so many words because he said that Hel had apparently told him while they were in Asgard's cells who came up with the actual cure to his poison while Loki came up with the delivery system,” Banner looked nonplussed as if it was a usual occurrence, “even then, I get the fact that whatever orders or punishment Odin handed down after we were done up there, he's taking protecting Loki rather seriously.”

“Eh, maybe, maybe not,” Coulson crossed his arms as he stared at the two prone forms. “I think it's probably a hold-over from Loki's coterie days or something. From what I remember, they were pretty loyal if they were willing to commit regicide for him.”

“I thought that was only Fenrir,” Banner commented. They had all heard the words spoken in the hanger bay when Fenrir had lured Loki to the hanger bay and tried to kill him a second time. Granted, it had taken them precious minutes to get into the hanger bay, Mjolnir's power nearly tearing through the electronics of the Helicarrier to break through whatever barrier Fenrir had thrown up. But they had heard everything. It did not change Coulson's opinion about Loki in general, but it at least provided some very needed intel that he had always been wondering about the Asgardian. Judging by the vagueness of Thor's words, that Loki had been adopted into the royal family, he had wondered if there had been some kind of hierarchy or societal opinion about adoption that made Loki the way he was.

His intel had not been completed until they had arrived on Asgard itself, Fury negotiating the treatise that Thor had lobbied hard to have his father recognize. He would have called it a treaty, but the Asgardians called it a treatise, which Coulson still did not understand the difference. In the Allfather's Court, Coulson got the real feel of Asgardian politics...and how Loki really factored into it. He suspected he would never know the full truth behind Loki's motivations, but it was not too hard to put together the pieces of what he had heard, what he knew, and what he learned from the Trickster God, Thor, Thor's warrior friends, and even Fenrir and Jormungandr for all of their mass murders and killing sprees. His own conclusions into Asgard as a society and how Thor and Loki factored into it – royal families and their inherent dysfunctions not withstanding – was a moot point; but he thought that advance aliens from space would have at least solved some of the societal issues that plagued less advance races. His predictions were wrong.

It did not mean he forgave Loki for what he had done – no, he would have thought _anyone_ would have been better than to try to enslave a world, geas, no geas, mind-controlled and not even mind-controlled, not withstanding. If anything, _Thor_ at least knew that the Earth needed protection and vowed to do so. Loki apparently thought otherwise. And there was no way Coulson would ever forgive him for killing him and having Fury activate Project TAHITI. He had managed to keep the urges to draw hidden from the others, May the only one who truly understood and kept him sane, but some days it was harder than most. Skye still had not found any connection, even with her hacking abilities and resources and Coulson was feeling a little desperate, especially with the stress of the past week. London had been one of their larger bases and he knew he would have to use Fury's black box to find another base for what remained of SHIELD. They could not stay at the Avengers Tower in the long run, the tower too public and too exposed even with the added protection of the Avengers living in the top floors. He would not risk the United States government and other international governments coming down on the Avengers because he and his agents were at the tower.

But, first things first and the next crisis in line was Thor still missing after assaulting the fake Baron von Strucker's base and finding Vasily Karpov. The fact that Loki was _here_ of all places, that concerned Coulson more than any other crisis at the moment. Loki's motivations as a conqueror were easy to read – his motives as to why he wanted to conquer, not so much – and so once he had been defeated by the Avengers, it was like any other conqueror, to not return until some time had passed when memories faded. There was also the more simplistic version was that Loki, besides being embarrassed, just plain did not like mortals, considering them less than someone like himself. Coulson was fine with this assessment – he had no love for his murderer – and did not care for his opinion on mortals and humans. So in the two times that Loki had arrived on Earth since his failed attempt to conquer it, he always took notice. Because the first time Loki arrived, the Chitauri and Thanos had followed quickly behind. The second time, the members of whatever was left of his coterie followed quickly behind.

Coulson was expecting _something_ to follow quickly behind Loki in this third appearance.

And also, the two times Loki had arrived after the Battle for New York, it was highly personal and usually involved a lot of destruction. Stuttgart and Karpov's former base were already testaments to his latest arrival. Though, he suppose this time, Loki was clearly looking for Thor. The question was, besides the obvious, why.

He had always been good at reading people, making them believe things and complete actions otherwise contrary to what they thought he wanted done, and applying his skills to the relationship between Loki and Thor had been no different. On the surface, there was no love lost between the two estranged siblings, adopted or not, and Loki seemingly hated Thor to the point of stabbing him with a dagger if he could. But, neither was he oblivious to the seemingly blind selflessness the two possessed towards each other. Thor was more obvious about it, his gestures of affection, his words, trying to get them through his brother's head that he was at least loved by one member of Asgardian society. Loki was not as obvious and apparently took great pains to hide it. But Coulson caught onto some of it. He knew that the Trickster God always spoke in riddles, his motivations far different than what one could predict – that was what made him a Trickster; honeyed words and deception his forte. But Coulson had caught the undercurrent of affection, of familial brotherhood in Loki's actions regarding Thor. There had always been that hesitation, that moment where when push came to shove, Loki would not outright kill Thor – certainly batter him as Coulson suspected Asgardian warrior society always had – but not deal the final blow.

So Coulson wanted to know _why_ Loki was demanding to know where Thor was and _why_ was he really here. The pretense of finding Thor could have been chalked up to the fact that Loki was worried for Thor, or thought him as idiotically asinine for getting captured, but Coulson suspected there was more to that. Not love, not affection, nothing of the sort – but from the sole fact that Loki had arrived angry and seemingly _knew_ something of what had happened to Thor. That was what he was aiming for.

And also Coulson had read up on the myths of Norse Gods after New York – courtesy of a book that Captain Rogers had let him borrow – and knew that if Loki was here, and if things had had a tendency to follow him; he was not called the God of Chaos in Norse myths.

“Just Fenrir?” he glanced at Banner who nodded a bit.

“Good point,” the doctor adjusted his glasses a little and pursed his lips as he stared at the read outs. “Thor didn't show up,” he said after a few minutes of amiable silence.

“It was a stretch, but something that we needed to know,” Maria had called him as soon as Rogers had requested a quinjet to go after Loki. He had immediately come to the same conclusion as Maria and authorized it – even though technically he was not in charge of the Avengers or Maria anymore. He knew that she had only called as a courtesy, to keep him in the loop as the new Director of SHIELD, but he appreciated it nonetheless. It also stood to reason of Fury's not-so-subtle reminder that he too, was an Avengers – something that had truly shocked him. To him, the Avengers were composed of the best men and women he knew and it had been a group he had not expected to be included with, considering that a few of them had superhuman powers. He had always expected to be the Avengers' handler until Fury gave him his new assignment and the Bus, but had not expected to _be_ an Avenger.

“Facial recognition hasn't brought up anything on Karpov-”

“Baldr-”

“-Er, Baldr, Thor, or the guy who was not really Strucker,” Banner shook his head, “Tony's tweaking it now, but I kind of wished I scanned Mjolnir before this...”

“Not your fault, Doctor,” Coulson reassured him, “but at least we know that if Loki shows up, Thor isn't prone to doing that, or at least Baldr-Karpov controlling him.”

“They could be anywhere...maybe not even on this planet,” Banner rubbed his eyes and Coulson obliquely glanced over to make sure that he wasn't turning green. Instead, the other man yawned a little, “Sorry, long day.”

“Get some rest, Doctor. The Big Guy did well today,” he smiled a little with a brief nod of his head.

Banner returned the smile with a crooked grin of his own before sobering a little, “Hey, about Loki and New York...”

“Twitter and other social media sites are trending with his appearance in Stuttgart, but Maria managed to forward most media companies to tell the public at large _not_ to do anything about Loki or New York. There have been a few reports of people rushed to the hospital for unexplained heart attacks. I've got eyes and ears on the ground to see if they were blaming Loki for New York, but I think the public at large knows about the geas contract Fury made with Loki,” Coulson let his smile drop as he uncrossed his arms and instead folded his hands together, “that's the good news.”

“Bad news?”

“Someone's got a hashtag that's blaming Loki for the spate of poison attacks two years ago,” he grimaced, “I'm having Skye track that, but it could be safe to say it's HYDRA leaking that.”

“Oh boy...” Banner scrubbed his face as he sighed, “that's not good.”

“Understatement of the year,” Coulson replied dryly, “get some rest Doc. No one's going anywhere.”

Banner only nodded again and left, suppressing another yawn with the back of his hand as he did so, leaving Coulson alone in the observation room. He glanced at the readouts before pulling up a chair and settled himself in it. There was nothing else to do except wait for the resident Trickster to wake up. Then...then Coulson would get the answers he wanted.

* * *

The comforts were not as plush or firm as Loki remembered his bed in his quarters which only meant that he was either on the Helicarrier or elsewhere. He extended his senses out, but did not hear the familiar hum of machinery and minute vibration of the Helicarrier. That meant he was elsewhere and finally opened his eyes to stare at the pale beige ceiling of the room he had been placed in. There were several faint honks of noise followed by screeching sounds of something motorized speeding to his right and he turned his head to see the familiar skyline of the city he had remembered flying through on the Chitauri skiffs. New York then...and judging by the feel of the bed beneath him and the plain-looking, but practical room he was in, more than likely the tower that Stark owned.

Loki laughed inwardly at the idea that he had been actually allowed into the tower, placed in one of the rooms, at Stark's behest. And considering there was no cold metal biting at his wrists nor anything save a blanket, trapping him on the bed, it meant that he was not imprisoned. Maybe imprisoned in the room as he glanced to his other side to see the telltale sign of a one-way mirror, the wall too blank for it to be not so obvious. Still, the fact that he had been treated like this, must have irritated Stark and probably some of the other Avengers to no end.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” the familiar voice of Agent Coulson spoke over a speaker of sorts and Loki looked towards the blank wall, a mirthless smile on his lips.

“Agent Coulson, how very kind of you to host me here-”

“Uh, no, this is _my_ house and I really don't want you here-” Stark's voice was cut off with a click of sorts as Loki snorted quietly. Stark, as ever, was predictable with his words. He gingerly pushed himself up from the bed, noting that the dizziness and exhaustion of previous times was all but gone, but in place was a ravenous gnawing hunger. When had he last eaten...Loki did not remember, but neither was he inclined to ask for food. He would find his own later.

A soft hissing sound made him glance back to see Jormungandr lift his head up from where he nested into the corner of his pillow. He could feel the faint tingle of leftover healing magick on the snake's skin and knew that he had procured a healing stone or two from the utility pouch that all Asgardians were prone to wearing on and off the battlefield. Healing stones contained the most basic magick and spellwork so that even a core-less mage like Jormungandr, or even a warrior like his idiot brother Thor, could use it without the aid of other spellwork. Loki reached over and plucked the snake from the pillow before putting him in his pocket just as a door opened with a click and the mortal Coulson stood before it, a congenial smile on his face.

“It's actually Director now,” the son of Coul said as he gestured to one of the empty chairs near an end table in the room, “do you mind?”

“Would it not be safer for you to interrogate me through your looking glass?” Loki inclined his head as the affable man walked in, pulling the chair towards his bed and sat down. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“If you want,” Coulson did not seem to be affected by his sarcastic remark, “a few things changed since you've been away. Director Fury's been dead for a little over a year.”

“Leaving you in charge,” Loki flicked a look towards the blank wall. If Stark was there, chances were the other Avengers were there too, all of them looking in while he was unable to see them.

“Well, I was hoping to ask your friend in your pocket there about any HYDRA connections he might have picked up the last time he was posing at them, but he has a tendency...to spit poison,” the other man shrugged as if it was not a greater problem, “SHIELD's pretty much fallen since you were here last, and HYDRA's taken over for-”

“I care not for your problems,” Loki shook his head, “holding me here is for one purpose only, you wish answers.”

“Are you willing to tell us?” Coulson immediately countered and Loki had to suppress the smile that threatened to appear on his face. If Fury was truly dead, then he would have been proud of the successor he had chosen in the man that had come back to life. He was every inch like Fury with his directness.

“It is a bargain-”

“Nuh-uh,” Coulson suddenly shook his head, “no geas, nothing of the sort Loki. I'm not like Fury. I don't do geas bargains.”

Loki chuckled lightly, “Far cleverer than your predecessor.” He had to admit, Coulson was smart to immediately tell him _not_ to make a geas and would not budge on it. Here was a man who was more than likely handed the reigns of power that he did not want, but was willing to step up and take them if needed. Fury had the curiosity, but also wanted to know about the geas. Coulson was far more cautious in that regard, but also was far more aligned to Thor's morals and ideals. No wonder his oaf of a brother had been so devastated when he had stabbed and killed Coulson back on the Helicarrier. He folded his hands on his lap, “Very well then, no geas.”

“Especially since you still have one hanging over your head,” Coulson added and Loki shot him a look, daring him to say more. The other man did not seem affected by his look and only stared back, gaze placid. “Should we expect someone, or a few someones coming after you since you're here?”

He raised an eyebrow, a little amused, but also a little confused before the click of the microphone made him glance towards the one-way window once more. “Loki, guns are always involved whenever you come here. Armies or people wanting to kill you also follow and this time, I think we might just hand you over to them.”

“Ah,” he recognized the familiar tones of Agent Romanov, “Agent Romanov. How kind of you to remind me of my previous ventures on this Nornforsaken ball of dirt.”

“You're trending on Twitter,” she shot back and Loki did not know whether he should be pleased or insulted by her words. He had no idea what the Twitter comment about.

However, he turned back to face the son of Coul when he lifted a hand after her comment. “Captain Rogers said that you came to the tower looking for Thor. We can help you find him.”

“I think not-”

“And subsequently also find who you're really looking for,” Coulson interrupted him and Loki stared, eyes narrowed.

“And pray tell, if not Thor, whom do you think I am searching for,” he asked in a deceptively calm voice, wondering how perceptive this mortal was to actually _know_ that he was not looking for Thor, but rather looking for Thor to find his true target.

“Baldr,” the son of Coul said in a simple tone, “or as he was more recently known on Earth, Vasily Karpov.”

“I have no need of your resources-”

“You can work alone, which is fine,” Coulson interrupted again, “or use us. Use the resources we have-”

“What resources? You said so yourself that SHIELD had fallen, HYDRA more than likely taken its place. You are pathetically weak that there have been no other resources for you to use to find Thor. Your vaunted _Captain_ has said that you have searched for a _week_ with little to no results,” Loki countered viciously, expecting Coulson to react, but the man only stared at him, much like Fury did. He restrained the sudden urge to lash out with his magick, finding the other man's gaze almost as unnerving as one given by the Allfather. The mortal was nothing _like_ the Allfather and could not even begin to be like him.

“And you're here not because Heimdall can't find Thor,” Coulson replied, his tone mild, but Loki caught the tremor of something unidentifiable underneath it, “so it tells me a few things. That Thor's still here on Earth somewhere and he and Karpov, well, Baldr, haven't done that opening portal thing you do to the other realms. It also tells me that you're not here for Thor, not when you sooner shank him in the ribs than anything else for his idiocy or something like that. You're here for Baldr. But you know Thor is somehow involved with Baldr.”

Loki refused to let the surprise appear on his face, but Coulson was not finished, “Why else would you send Thor to find the Chitauri sceptre you left behind unless you know maybe something of what's happening here? Thor told us before everything went down that he didn't mention to the Allfather about SHIELD's dissolution and HYDRA's rise. He didn't want to open Earth to the power play of the other realms if they knew that SHIELD fell and couldn't enforce the treatise made. But I did notice that he was dropped right into the middle of a firefight without the Bifrost's help and _only_ picked up after the fight by Heimdall. Your handiwork I suppose.”

Coulson suddenly pushed the chair he had been sitting on back with a small scraping sound, and stood up. He buttoned his jacket up, looking as impeccable and unflappable as ever, “Think about it, Loki. You might not like us, and we might not like you, but we do have a saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“We're certainly _not_ friends,” Loki's eyes tracked him as he walked towards the door and opened it.

“No,” the other man turned back an amiable smile on his face, “we're not. Allies is probably stretching it, but we do have resources that you can use. And you have resources we can use. You want to find Baldr, and we want to find Thor.” The other man made to close the door behind him, but paused, “You're free to leave the tower, I think Mr. Stark probably _wants_ you to, but you might want to avoid the public for a bit. Agent Romanov is right, you're trending on Twitter and the media and its not pretty.”

“New York?” Loki wondered how foolish were the mortals to claim revenge against the geas he had made with Fury three years ago.

“No, we've got that covered. Most world governments are blaming you for your friend-in-the-pocket's poisoning of several cities from what happened two years ago,” Coulson shrugged.

“And now you will tell me you have done nothing to dissuade them of that. Thereby keeping me here hostage to your requests for help-”

“Yes and no,” Coulson tilted his head a little, “if you want to give up Jormungandr to us, we can hand him over to the proper authorities and it'll certainly give whatever is left of SHIELD some credibility because it was his fault instead of yours-”

“If you _think-_ ” Loki was livid at the implied suggestion.

“-but frankly, that's not my problem at the moment,” his anger deflated at the son of Coul's nonchalance and stared at him, puzzled, “I really don't care about that. I'm just letting you know if you want to leave, you can. Just know that someone's going to be pointing a gun at you and probably try to arrest you. We, the human race, have gotten a little smarter and more aware since the last time you were here.”

“And you do not care if these mortals are harmed?”

“Like I said, we're pretty thin on resources and I know asking you _not_ to harm them is probably a moot point. The only thing I can say is that it'll probably be harder to do whatever spell scan thing you were trying to attempt in Stuttgart and probably what Baldr wants happen if anything. The guy was a complete megalomaniac when we found him before he escaped.” He gave him a wan smile, “Just think on it, Loki.”

With that, he pulled the door close and Loki was left alone with his thoughts and the near-silence of the room, punctuated by the constant traffic and noise of the city he had once tried to conquer.

* * *

“Sheesh, the guy's a basket case,” Maria Hill ignored Skye's comment as she watched the security cameras around Loki's room carefully for any sign that the Trickster God was going to launch a surprise attack on Coulson.

“Seriously, he's giving me the creeps and I'm not even there with him. It's like Ward, but ten times worse,” Skye continued, “and you're telling me this guy can, what, cast spells like Harry Potter or something?” She waved her hands in the air.

“Tried to shoot me down for one with his glowstick of ice,” Sam commented behind Maria and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shift a little, “Steve, we really have to work with him?”

“His choice,” Maria flicked a quick look as Steve leaned forward, arms placed against the panel she was working on as he also looked at the security footage. Or not, as he reached out and opened a few different hard-light projected windows that showed the grainy footage that social media had collated so far when Loki had appeared in Stuttgart with the footage from the underbelly of the quinjet of their fight against the remaining Centipede and Extremis soldiers under Karpov's command.

“You know I'm just impressed by the Director there,” Triplett's voice chimed in from the back of the small group that had congregated into the room once it looked like Loki was waking and Coulson had left the observation room to talk to him. Maria knew that the other Avengers - minus Barnes who was nowhere to be seen, Steve, and Sam who were several floors down with her - had been in the observation room, watching the whole thing. The command staff for Coulson's team had decided to come here instead. She, Steve, and Sam had already been in here with Skye looking at what had been trending on social media and how to mitigate it. Steve had been ready to made an announcement regarding Loki's appearance and what the Avengers were going to do about it when Loki had woken up. Tony had originally offered but everyone had shot it down, knowing the animosity between Tony and Loki.

“There aren't many people who are willing to confront their killer like that, much less sit in a room and have a civil conversation,” Melinda May murmured next to Triplett and Maria smiled slightly. She knew exactly whom May was referring to and agreed with her sentiment. Though Grant Ward had not killed her per se, she was still furious that he had managed to slip past her notice as a HYDRA agent and could have conceivably killed Fury any time before HYDRA had crawled out of SHIELD's remnants. It had been her job as Fury's former bodyguard and ex-STRIKE Alpha commander to watch for all threats.

“I am rather curious about the magic he uses. I mean, conceivably it might not be magic at all and probably advance technology like Dr. Foster said in her papers and research. It could be a biological factor, I mean Thor isn't human and he does have unusual properties when it comes to strength ratio versus-”

“Jemma...”

Maria ignored the whispered conversation Simmons was having with Fitz related to Loki's magic as she brought as she noticed Coulson finally closing the door to Loki's room.

“His choice?” Sam asked, “really?”

“His choice,” Steve repeated and she glanced over to see him with his jaw set, a determined look on his face, “we can't force him to work with us, nor can we detain him. The only thing we can do, if he does decide to go it alone is to follow behind him and try to find Thor that way.”

“The last time that happened, Loki apparently wasn't himself and nearly downed the Helicarrier. Code Omega,” Maria reminded Steve with a pointed look.

“What? Wasn't himself? Code Omega?” Sam asked and Maria turned in time to see May's eyebrows raise up in surprise as did Triplett, Fitz, and Simmons. Skye, like Sam, looked utterly confused.

“Oh...makes sense now,” May commented quietly as Triplett and the two scientists also nodded. “All of us at the Triskelion were wondering what had happened when the Omega was announced across all channels.”

“The Academy was in complete lockdown back then. We were all ordered to stay where we were and armed guards were placed at the doors. Everyone was worried,” Simmons murmured, “that was because of, uh...Loki?”

“Coulson took control per the Omega command when Loki was forcibly taken by Thanos. He has a geas contract with him,” Maria explained quickly before eyeing Steve, “you think Thanos is ultimately behind this?”

“Don't know,” Steve shook his head, not meeting her gaze as he looked intently at the windows he had brought up, “it's something I saw while Baldr was messing with my head, but can't shake the feeling. The coterie was also involved with Thanos, however obliquely until Fenrir decided to abandon the plan and take his revenge against Loki. This might be the latest in a long string of things with Loki and Thanos.”

“Who's Thanos?” Sam asked and Maria caught him looking at Steve for a long moment, deciding not to mention anything else about Steve being under Karpov's control when they had assaulted the base in the Alps.

“The guy behind the Chitauri invasion, maybe,” Steve replied, “but definitely someone Odin Allfather recognizes and apparently has been fighting with for a long time.”

“And...he has a thing...for Loki?” Sam asked before backpeddling with Steve's confused look, “I mean, what's he to Mister-I'm-Going-To-Try-To-Blow-Everything-Up-I-Apparently-Hate-You-All person?”

Maria had to grin a little at Sam's name for Loki and judging by the amused looks the others threw Sam, they too liked how he had summed up Thor's adopted brother. “From what Fenrir said, I think Loki got his sceptre from Thanos and probably also the Chitauri army too. They probably were once allies, but had a falling out when Loki failed in his conquest of Earth.”

“Good thing,” Skye interjected, “so how come we just don't hand that asshole over to this Thanos? I mean he's a war criminal right? He should be prosecuted-”

Maria whirled around and quickly reached over to cover Skye's mouth, muffling her words as she shook her head. “Don't say it, Skye. Don't say _anything_ about New York,” she warned. “You've been collating the poison hashtag right? That's the _only_ thing we can try to prosecute Loki with. Not New York. Not with the geas contract Fury made with Loki back then.”

Skye made a muffled noise on her hand and Maria reluctantly let go to allow her to talk again. “Why?”

“We don't know anything about geas contracts, but we do know that the one that Fury made with Loki initially contained the provision that no one can blame him for New York. Anyone who goes against that contract can die.”

“As in-n d-drop dead, die?” Fitz asked, his brow wrinkling in concern.

“Yeah, Stark tried a variation of that and had a near heart attack right then and there on the Helicarrier,” Maria still remembered when Tony had not believed what had been said and had paid for it painfully before he relented.

“But how does Fury have that _right_ to do something like that?” Skye shook her head, “I can't-”

“Like I said, we don't know much about the complexities of a geas contract, but we do know that if a contract is made with a person and either one reneges on it or doesn't follow the provisions made, they drop dead. If a person dies in some manner before fulfilling the contract, the contract is still valid.”

“That's why you had me release those two files you had on Fury as soon as Loki was in Stuttgart,” Skye replied as she sat back against her chair, “huh...”

“So where does that leave us?” Sam asked after a few minutes of silence, looking at Steve. Maria also turned to look at him, wondering what was going on in her friend's head. She understood the initial rush to find out where Loki went and to go after him, but now, especially with the radio chatter between Dr. Banner and Steve while they had been flying on the quinjet, she wondered if Steve knew something more about what was happening with Thor, Loki, and Baldr.

“Still his choice,” Steve replied, “but we still have to be ready in case Thor or Baldr shows up. If there's one thing that Loki's really good at is bringing chaos and trouble with him.”

Maria could not agree more. Chaos, destruction, and trouble always followed Loki in the last three times he was here. All of the above had already happened in Stuttgart and in the remnants of the base in the Alps. There was an old childhood poem she remembered, _something wicked this way comes_... Whether it applied to Loki or to the chaos following Loki, she did not know, but she knew that they needed to prepare.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this story does incorporate _Agents of SHIELD_ , but **_only_** Season 1. Season 2 is not considered part of this story and so Trip is still alive, but Ward has gone missing after events in _Frozen in Time_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

Natasha heard the door leading out of the observation room slam closed behind Tony's angry march out. She had no doubts that he was immediately going to talk to Coulson about what had transpired, but also knew that Coulson would not budge on what he had said to Loki. The slight movement out of the corner of her eye followed by the sounds of the door opening and closing again – this time a lot gentler – told her than Bruce had left the room too. She supposed that he was either going to his lab or more than likely chasing after Tony to calm him down before he ended up shouting at Coulson.

Steve and Sam had been with Maria prepping for a public announcement regarding Loki, Stuttgart, and about New York when Loki had woken up. She knew that they would have immediately tuned to their video feeds from downstairs instead of crowding into the small observation room with them. James was nowhere to be seen, but Natasha had a feeling that he was watching from somewhere and decided to quell the urge to flick a look up at the roomy ventilation shafts that had been built into the Avengers Tower. It was how James had first appeared on the Avengers' radar after nearly a year of covert intelligence gathering – he had climbed the first few floors of the Tower's ventilation system and exited on one of the RFID shielded floors where the Tower's internal security cameras could see him. He had been able to pull it off with the aid of her very own gift to him on the Washington D.C. causeway the previous year – the small electro-magnetic pulse diskette she had thrown at his arm to momentarily disable him.

Instead, Natasha flicked a quick look at Clint, the only other one left in the observation room with her. She could see him absently plucking the string to his bow while his other hand fiddled with the buttons that was wirelessly attached to the variety of arrowheads he had in his pack. The pack itself was sitting in the armory of the ready room and the buttons on the bow did not light up, but she knew that it was a habitual gesture for him. She let the silence hang for a few minutes, knowing that Clint wanted to speak, but would only do so when he was ready. His movements indicated it as much, but she also knew him well enough that he was still working out the initial emotions that hit him every time Loki was near his vicinity.

Since the Battle for New York, Natasha never brought up what had happened to Clint, allowing him the same courtesy he had given to her when she had been brought in from the cold. Back then, he had never pressed her for answers, always gave her his unconditional trust and their conversations in the field or even off-duty were light and either were mission related or just nonsensical. He had allowed her to emerge from her shell and when she was ready to talk – in the rare times – of her time in the Red Room and what she remembered in bits and pieces, he was always there to listen. He never judged her, but neither did he tell Coulson, their handler at the time, or Fury of what had been spoken between then two of them. That trust had extended towards Coulson whom she recognized had given Clint the same from when he had been recruited into SHIELD, but Coulson had firmly told her that he needed to report what she told him to Fury. It had given her an easy out – allowing her to lie and to tell him falsehoods about her past with the Red Room and as a Black Widow, but by then, Natasha knew that Coulson and Clint both had special places in her heart and instead, told the truth.

Now, she gave Clint the same courtesy he had given her for so many years. She knew that Clint talked with Coulson about some things, things he did not tell her, but she did not mind. Clint and Coulson knew and worked with each other far longer than she had with them, and since Fury had gone back into hiding, she also knew that Maria would not be brought into the loop of their conversations. It was not that she did not trust Maria, but it was more the fact that Maria worked for Stark Industries instead of Coulson's SHIELD. Granted, Maria had been Fury's bodyguard and the ex-leader of STRIKE Alpha, Natasha did not feel like she had the closeness with the woman as she did with Coulson or Clint.

“I think what bothers me the most is that I know that no matter how many arrows I put into him, or try to, he won't die,” Clint suddenly said, his hands stilling on his bow as he stared out into the room that Loki had been given.

The Asgardian in question had leaned back against the bed after Coulson had left and was seemingly staring up at the ceiling. One of his hands was hovering in the air, his fingers tracing an aimless pattern. Natasha had a feeling that it was a magic spell of sorts, but for the moment, did not seem too concerned. Coulson had been correct; they could not readily stop Loki from creating havoc and mayhem with his spells – not with Thor missing – but they had also let the Asgardian know that they were willing to be allies of a sort if need be.

“That's not it,” she replied, absently tapping on a few of the hard-light projected charts that Bruce had created to monitor the alien's vitals. She pulled up another set that belonged to Thor who had generously allowed them to record some medical information instead of relying on the ones he had from the small New Mexican hospital – which truth be told, was when he was in mortal form, not his nigh-immortal one.

“Yeah,” Clint replied after a few seconds of silence, “probably not really what bothers me.”

“It's the sceptre,” she said in a simple tone and out of the corner of her eyes, caught the flash of irritation and hurt in her partner's eyes before he looked away, lips compressed into a thin line.

“I hate that thing,” Clint growled out quietly in agreement to her words, “I fucking hate it.”

Any other person would have thought that his words meant that he hated the sceptre, but Natasha knew that besides the obvious, Clint was also talking about his most recent mission. Standard SHIELD procedure post-op for any long-term undercover assignments was a psychological evaluation, debriefing, and a mandatory two week vacation somewhere remote. Theoretically, it was a chance for the agent in question to decompress and relax. In reality, it was a chance for SHIELD to discreetly monitor the agent to ensure that he or she had not actually been converted during their time undercover. SHIELD's fall the previous year had negated any chance for Clint to do any of that and Natasha knew that he was trying to build a routine of sorts for himself – to get himself away from anything to do with the sceptre or his previous mission to hunt it down.

Unfortunately, with the loss of Thor, the sceptre in Karpov's – or Baldr if it really was true – hands, and now the sudden appearance of Loki; Natasha could easily tell that some of the internal stress was rising up to the surface for her long-time partner. All of them were still suffering from the destruction of Coulson's London hub and their somewhat accomplished, but disastrous mission to Karpov's base. None of them had a chance to catch their breath, searching far and wide for Thor as soon as they had gotten back to the Avengers Tower. Coulson was too busy to properly debrief them and all of them had been wounded to a certain extent. Though they worked well together and as the Avengers were able to execute their missions whenever one came up, she knew that they were all metaphorically licking their wounds, pulling tight into their shells and unwilling to let others see the hurt.

It was what she had been taught, while for others it was both experience and personalities that drove them to be this way. The irony that they were more of a ticking time bomb than a group of people working together was not lost on her – Bruce's words three years previous on the Helicarrier echoing around her.

It would have been easy for her to come up with the hollow-sounding words of comfort to say to Clint – that it was not his fault, that the mission was over, et cetera. But she had only said something similar to him when he had _blamed_ himself for the deaths of Coulson and the other agents on the Helicarrier, not for anything else. In this instance, it was far different, so she said nothing and only shrugged lightly to Clint's words.

“Loki is the best we have against Karpov, or Baldr if that's really his name,” she stated and saw Clint heave an audible sigh and shift his arms a little before crossing them across his chest, letting his bow rest against his other arm.

“The guy is manipulative,” Clint said after a few more minutes of silence, his fingers absently pushing on the inactive buttons once more, “and I don't mean like Fury or like Loki. He _worked_ the sceptre, as if playing with minds and molding brains was second nature.”

“Steve did mention that the guy that was supposedly Baron von Strucker changed his form and mentioned about his master before he escaped by a similar shadow-like portal like the ones Loki and Thanos created. He might have been talking about Karpov,” she mentioned and Clint nodded absently.

“Sometimes, I would see Strucker in his labs, but then see him again in the hallway five floors up not even a minute later,” he rubbed his chin with a finger. “There was this guy that occasionally stayed by Karpov's side like glue sometimes; red-haired, sharp blue eyes, narrow angular face with a small mouth. Smooth talker too, got along with some of the others, friendly, but somehow just seemed off. Seemed to be a bit too close to Karpov at times. You would have eaten him and spitted him back out for dinner Nat.” There was a brief tight smile on Clint's face and Natasha involuntarily felt her own lips respond with a quirk of her own.

Her partner never mentioned something like that unless he thought that someone would put up a challenge for her in the infiltration and extraction of information department. He had only said those words to her three times since she had come in from the cold. He had first uttered those words when he introduced her to Coulson for the first time, pitting her and Coulson in a battle of information and wits.

“Wish I joined you there,” it was the closest she got to an apology for her part in the whole fall of SHIELD and exposure of HYDRA.

“Maybe Karpov had practice with the guy, making him think he was his master, maybe that's why he's so manipulative. Never really caught his name in the time I was there,” Clint did not ignore her words, but to any observer it seemed like he did until one saw the brief gesture of the Red Room code for _not your fault_ as he tapped four fingers across his own left shoulder. He continued to stare out at where Loki sat on his bed, fingers still moving in the air, “What's stopping him from taking the sceptre and conquering the planet again after all of this?”

Natasha also stared back out at where Loki sat, the vitals she had been comparing with Thor's readouts not telling her much. There were a few discrepancies, but she supposed it could have been attributed to either Loki being blue like the Frost Giants even though the blue had disappeared into the pale skin of what he usually looked like when he had been revived; or it could have been attributed to Thor's comment that Loki was adopted and thus was not Thor's biological brother.

“Nothing's going to stop him,” she answered, “but if Loki wanted to raze or enslave the Earth, he could have easily done so at Stuttgart. He's already shown that he doesn't really need an army to wreak havoc.”

“Stuttgart, twice even,” Clint interjected and Natasha nodded.

“And he just wants an audience to do it in front of,” she added and saw Clint shrug at her answer, “so the question becomes-”

“Why hasn't Karpov done the same,” Clint finished for her, finally taking his eyes off of Loki to look at her and she met his gaze squarely with her own. “He has Thor, he's clearly controlling him with the sceptre. We all saw it when he went all doom and gloom on us and Thor sounded like he was reading something from Shakespeare's Richard II.”

Natasha frowned a little, “Either he's waiting or Earth's not the target-” She paused as she noticed out of the corner of her eyes Loki's form _dissolving_ and turned fully in her chair in time to see him completely disappear before her eyes. “Shit...” she muttered under her breath as she realized Loki _had_ been casting a spell, an illusion of sorts.

It seemed the Trickster God had come to the same conclusion and must have either left after Coulson had gone or had disappeared sometime during her conversation with Clint. She immediately tapped her ear, patching into Couslon's radio, “Loki's off-site again.” SHIELD's newest Director had been correct – they could not stop Loki from wrecking havoc, but at the very least, they could follow him to find Karpov and hopefully Thor.

* * *

Loki drew the illusion back into himself, ignoring the feel of the wind whipping at him this high up on one of the struts of one of the bridges that led into Manhattan Island of New York City. The name of the bridge was Williamsburg, but it was a trivial matter that did not concern him as he opened his eyes and let himself relax, the illusion spell dissipating as he relaxed his hand. He considered Agent Romanov's words and Agent Barton's speculations.

The fact that Karpov, whom now he knew was Baldr's mortal-bound name on this Nornforsaken rock, had apparently not even attacked the Avengers or had done anything untoward filled in some of the information he had been missing. He knew by now, the Avengers would be scrambling like little insects once more, trying to find him, but he did not care as he looked around his vantage point. There was something relaxing about being this high up from the ground, with nothing more than the wind, waters, and barely-noticed mortals scurrying underneath him. He momentarily pushed aside what he had heard and closed his eyes, letting himself relax-

“...Sorry,” Jormungandr's quiet voice followed the sudden crunch of something being crumpled. He opened his eyes to give the young man a sideways look as he crushed the paper cup of coffee in his hands; having finished it and disposed of it along with the small pile of containers from the foodstuffs the two of them had just consumed.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes in irritation as he focused back on the problem at hand. For all of his indifference and amusement at Agent Barton, the archer had once again proven his worth – though this time not under his control. It had taken a lot of Loki's own mental fortitude to suppress Barton's rage and struggle when he had controlled him with the sceptre, but he had also listened to Barton's plans and explanations. The mortal was very knowledgeable with his secrets and though Loki had managed to force them out of Barton, there were times he had to seemingly wrest it away from him. Loki felt no remorse – and truth be told, felt rather nothing except a faint sense of amusement at Barton's reactions to him each time he had arrived on Midgard thereafter – for what he had done to the other man. He was a tool to be used and when he usefulness was at an end, he had expected Barton to wallow in the pity and guilt of the many deaths he had caused. The only fault of that was that Barton had proven himself to be far more resilient when he had first arrived – otherwise, he would have disposed of the Agent like he had with the others.

And so, the Agent was proving himself useful again, this time giving him the information he knew he would have otherwise had to have asked for or Nornforbid, _talk_ to the other Avengers about. That was what Thor was good for – talking with the pitiful mortals that really did not understand anything. He knew he himself could easily ask the questions that needed to be asked, wheedle answers out of them and play them like finely tuned instruments, but it was the _effort_ it took. Dr. Banner and maybe Agent Romanov would have merited such an effort – they actually managed to provide him with some entertainment in their word play and actions – but he had a feeling that talking to them alone would not be an option, not at this juncture.

Barton was correct – the Chitauri sceptre afforded their wielders incredible power. Not only over the mind, but also of destruction. He alone had cowed a crowd of Midgard's high society into fearing him. The current lack of fear in this city, the news reports that the son of Coul had told him; he knew that Baldr had not taken advantage of both the sceptre's power and the fact that he controlled Thor. Loki knew easily how destructive Mjolnir could be when Thor wielded it – their trip to Jotunheim four years previous proved it – so, like Barton speculated, why did Baldr not take advantage of it? What was he waiting for? What was he doing all this time? Heimdall had thought to have seen Thor on Vanaheim, and Tyr had been sent, but he had been assassinated.

Granted, there was a minute chance that Baldr and Thor were on Vanaheim, waiting and biding their time. Loki had also felt the abrupt dissipation of the remnant magick of the Chitauri sceptre and what was the faint remnants of portal magick while he was in the Alps. Captain Rogers had already stated that they could not find any sign of Thor or of Baldr in the past week, so there was little reason for Loki to stay on Midgard. He lifted his arm up into the air and closed his eyes. This last spell would be able to confirm whether or not the sceptre was on Midgard. His attempt at Stuttgart had pinpointed it to the base in the Alps, but he needed to be sure. The high vantage point with no obstructing buildings in his way was also a chance for him to cast his spell without any interference.

He exhaled quietly and drew in a long breath before releasing the spell, feeling his senses spread far and wide, the scanning spell working in a similar manner to the one he had cast to sense any barriers or portals from Thanos a few years ago. He could feel the faint thrum of magicks that he recognized as the breadcrumb-trail that led him to the Alps and traced it back, seeing quick flashes of stoneworked buildings, cobblestones, bases underground and above wooded areas...tracing the source that he could feel diving into the arctic waters that were so cold, so deep...washed in the metal remnants of what had been the Helicarrier. He could still feel the faint magick of death that sent a sudden and unexpected aching pang into his heart- Fenrir...Fenrir had died on those decks that were now buried deep near the volcanic mounds of the arctic tectonic plates.

Loki twisted his head uncomfortably as he brushed past it, brush past the gigantic blot of remnant magick that had thoroughly coated the Helicarrier; the twisted wisps of Hel's deathly touch, Jormungandr's poisons, Fenrir's simplistic, but effective illusions, of Thanos' unbridled rage, and the cool arctic winter that was the Casket of Ancient Winters... He pushed past what had been his attempt to conquer Midgard, tracing the path back to the Ohio, the heliophysics facility where the Tesseract had been housed for study by SHIELD. He pushed past it, feeling the ghostly remnants, almost faded now, of his own arrival from Thanos' lair hidden in the shadows of the Yggdrasil. Instead, he could feel the faint magicks dissipate, as if it was still lingering there, but could not pinpoint the location.

He opened his eyes and lowered his hand, a frown gracing his features as he pondered what he had just sensed. The trace of magick that belonged to a portal in the Alps must have been from Sleipnir, and it seemed to confirm that the older man was somehow connected to Baldr considering he felt traces of the Mind Gem's latent magick around the portal magick. It at least gave weight to the truth that Baldr needed Sleipnir to travel through the shadows of Yggdrasil. So then how did Heimdall possibly see Thor on Vanaheim?

He did not know if it was possible to actually _hide_ the tendrils of any type of magick. His studies with his teacher, Death, told him as much, that each spellwork left a mark, however faint or strong depending on what type of spell cast among other factors. It seemed like Baldr had managed to do so and at the same time also seemingly not actively _use_ Thor to subjugate the populace of Midgard. Sleipnir had truly learned from his far-cleverer master Baldr, if he was biding his time with the sceptre.

But Loki did not doubt that he was better than Baldr. For one thing, Sleipnir, and by extension probably Baldr, had not anticipated him actually going to Midgard. He would have considered Baldr's knowledge about him to be limited at best, even if he managed to coerce Thor to spill the secrets of his childhood and growing up as a Prince of Midgard. Thor's stories would be exaggerated if Baldr asked for them. No, not even Thor knew Loki well, and that was to his advantage. His actions in Stuttgart ensured that Baldr knew that he was here, but he would not truly know him at his best, as the Trickster God because Loki would strike when he least expected it. Then he would return to Asgard and utterly _crush_ Sleipnir for his actions.

“Loki, maybe the Avengers are correct...they have resources-”

Loki arched a look at Jormungandr who immediately shut his mouth, shrinking back slightly in apology. He did not need a reminder that the Avengers had resources, but he also knew that they did not have a plan. The new Director's words told him as much. They were going to use him to try to find Thor and Baldr. As much as he detested it, he also knew that Coulson had a point – it _was_ the quickest way to find Thor and therefore Baldr. A mirthless smile appeared on Loki's lips as he clasped his hands behind him and took two steps towards the edge of the tower he was on, looking down at the passing traffic. If the son of Coul and the Avengers were going to use him, he would at least have a little bit of _fun_ while he was searching for his idiot brother and Baldr.

He took another step out into the open air and dropped rapidly to the top of the red-orange metallic structure that housed the pedestrian walkway across the bridge. Loki cushioned his fall with a quick spell that slowed his descent and landed with nary a sound. He continued walking towards Manhattan Island as he heard the clattering thump of Jormungandr in his snake form falling behind him. A second later, the sounds of footsteps behind him told him that Jormungandr had changed back to his human form.

He took a quick look below him at the obliviousness of the mortals that were crossing the walkways beneath them. He knew that they had heard Jormungandr's drop, but had ignored it, most them with their heads on their electronic devices while others wore white plastic-like things in their ears. How complacent and docile mortals were to not even pay attention to their surroundings...until something happened. Why did he want to conquer them in the first place was beyond him, but he supposed there was some amusement in seeing things like this.

He glanced to his left at the rush of traffic followed by the quick rumble of trains running underneath all of the cars. He knew he could easily wear the garb he had attacked them with, drawing the attention of everyone to himself, but Loki was curious if anyone would recognize him while he was dressed in the garb of the mortals. Dark slacks, pressed white shirt with a dark grey waistcoat and dark green tie covered by a similar dark jacket. He topped off his appearance with a scarf that was dressed in runes that denoted his full title and sigil of the House of Odin. It was decorated in threaded gold runes and fringed with green and black. It was similar to what he had worn when he had attended the gala honoring the scientist that Barton needed the eye to get the iridium for Dr. Selvig.

Loki continued to casually walk above the walkway before finally jumping down and joining the flow of pedestrian traffic. He continued to walk with the flow, reminding himself of the time when Fenrir had taught him how to move with the people, become one of them instead of being the Prince he was. It felt familiar, as he could feel Jormungandr keep up with him, the ease of the movement, as he made his way into the heart of New York City. He was amazed at the difference between the mortals that more than likely lived or worked in the city than the tourists that were prone to pointing this way and that. They took pictures, hugged friends, took more pictures, poured over maps while he passed by them.

He finally glanced up to see that he had walked to the corner of Bowery and Delancey. New York City had been described to him by Barton and by Dr. Selvig, the two having spent time in the city before and he knew enough that if he took Delancey, he would eventually make it up to 4 th  Avenue and from there Union Square. From Union Square it was a straight shot up Park Avenue to Grand Central Station and the Avengers Tower.

So far, he knew he had not garnered any notoriety in his garb, considering that whatever the son of Coul or Agent Romanov had said about trending and the like. Still, he decided to leave his garb on instead of dissolving the illusion for his light armor. He wished he had a chance to put on his full armor, but Sleipnir had forced his hand after he had left the Healing Halls and there had been no time. He could easily conjure an illusion that he was wearing it, but he also knew that if a spell hit him or any weapon hit him, it would immediately reveal that he was not wearing armor.

He continued his languid walk up Delancey, noting more tourists holding up electronic things from across the street- Loki paused for a second before the corner of his lips turned up in a smile. Ah, they _were_ taking note of him, just not in the way that he had seen when he had first conquered Midgard. It was similar to what he had seen in Stuttgart, but this time, Loki noticed that the sea of mortals around him was thinning ever so slowly as he continued to walk. More and more people were beginning to look at him as he made his way deeper into the heart of the city. A few seconds later, he heard the distant familiar wail of sirens that denoted the arrival of the New York police department.

He continued his languid pace, hearing the murmurs and crowds starting to gather behind and in front of him. The people in front parted like the sea as he approached them, skittering to the left or right as he crossed streets or took steps outside the straight line he had been walking. He could hear the wail of sirens getting louder, screeches of tires stopping followed by the sounds of doors slamming, but ignored all of it as he let the smile grow just a little larger on his lips. Coulson had said that the mortals had been warned about the geas contract he had conducted with Fury regarding his last appearance in the city, but he wondered if any of the mortals were stupid enough to actually test it out. Tony Stark certainly had tried to the first time around, and had nearly paid for it with his life before stopping.

“We're surrounded...” Jormungandr murmured quietly near his right as they arrived at Union Square.

He crossed the street to the plaza itself and finally looked around, noting the various pitiful metal barriers that had sprung up around the area – as if the New York police department could contain him – along with the numerous policemen and women dressed in their uniforms pointing their guns at him. He paused, looking around and affecting a surprised expression on his face before dropping it with a churlish smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man move past the metal barriers with a horn of sorts in his hand.

“Are you Loki?” the policeman demanded, speaking in the horn that amplified his voice. Loki realized that this was one of the megaphones that Barton had told him about previously.

He let his smile grow wider in response before dropping the illusion of the mortal clothing he had cast over himself. Their reactions were instantaneous as he heard the click of multiple guns' safeties being taken off, all pointed at him. Behind him, he heard Jormungandr shift his feet a little, tensing, but Loki was unconcerned.

“Listen, we don't want any trouble,” the policeman asked, “we would like you to just leave-”

“I am afraid I cannot do that,” he countered politely, staring at the policeman. He was close enough that Loki read the name tag [Sousa] on his uniform. “I am waiting to see if a certain person will arrive as my presence in Stuttgart should have first alerted him.”

“Who-”

Sousa never got to finish his question before a loud thumping crack erupted behind him. Loki turned to see Thor stand up as the dusty debris he had kicked up blew away in a gust of wind.. His landing had created a small cratering impact on the ground as he Mjolnir crackled in his hand. “Thor,” he greeted, his smile growing sharper as he stared at his brother.

Thor's only response was to throw Mjolnir at him.

* * *

“Shit, we've got a problem,” Tony ran into the communications room without preamble, Coulson and Banner hot on his heels.

“What,” Steve glanced back as Tony waved his arm and aerial news footage popped up on the main screen of the hard light projections he had been looking at. “Oh no...” he murmured quietly as he realized what he was seeing. Loki and Jormungandr were standing at the edges of the main plaza in Union Square with a considerable amount of police surrounding them.

Not even a second later, there was a flash of something hitting the ground near Loki before the dust cleared and Steve's eyes widened in surprise. Thor had arrived.

He automatically activated his radio to the others. “Avengers, assemble!” the words were out of his mouth even before he started moving towards the ready room.

Loki had actually done it; he had actually managed to draw Thor out. And while Steve knew that if Thor was not under the influence of the Chitauri sceptre, he would be cognizant and aware of his surroundings and innocent civilians involved, he also knew that Loki would not even consider any of that. Thor under the control of Baldr would probably not have the same inhibitions either, which meant they needed to contain the situation.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom Hiddleston can wear a waistcoat like nobody's business – hence the inspiration for Loki briefly changing clothes before going back to his usual garb. Also, that Sousa borrows the name from Agent Sousa of “Agent Carter,” but is also the same policeman that Enver Gjokaj played in “The Avengers.” I'd like to think of him as descendant or something like that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

  


He summoned Mjolnir back to his hand before pointing it and fired off a blast of electricity. He expected the magick user to easily dodge the blast from Mjolnir, but it was the serpent that was coiled near him who took the blast, an animal-like screaming hiss emerging from its fanged mouth in anger as its skin seemingly absorbed the attack. The serpent landed on the ground, fangs extended, hissing in a protective manner as it flared its hood at him, daring him to attack once more. The display struck an odd familiarity, that he somehow knew was from long before, almost...childhood if one could call it. He knew that the magick-user should not be here, nor should he himself be here. He could feel the pressure, the _call_ that pulled at him. But he knew he had to come. Because... He paused. He did not know why he had to come, only that he knew it was imperative that he did. That was odd, was it not?

“Good to see you too, _brother_ ,” the magick user sneered.

His world suddenly whited out in a brief disorienting fashion. _“We are brothers, you and I. We grew up together, played together, fought together. Do not not remember any of this?!”_

_“I remember...living in the shade of your shadow...”_

He stared, somehow unable to comprehend the words said out loud compared to the sudden echoing words in his head. He knew that they were familiar, that it had been said with no affection, but he could not help but think that there had been affection in the words, his own...words. But the affection was certainly not with this magick user, this mage, not at the moment. Sarcasm he understood, and the tone that had greeted him in such familiar terms – terms he could not quite grasp onto like liquid slipping out of his fingers – was utterly sarcastic.

He took a step back and set himself defensively as he saw a glaive appear in the magick user's hands. A second later, he deflected the icy cool blast of seemingly cold arctic air – _Jotunheim? It felt like...Jotunheim?_ \- with a blast of lightning from Mjolnir. This was laughably easy. He knew that deep down, that he was being played with- He suddenly winced at the tug of the bond with his master, the disapproval and the wash of anger that promised pain and agony- He stumbled a little, a thousand apologies pouring forth- He had not meant...he did not- He needed to leave and so spun Mjolnir as the smoke from the clash of spellwork slowly dissipated-

“Leaving so soon?” the magick user goaded and he stared at him, the sudden urgent overriding need to _stay_ and to say pushing away the need to _leave_ -

“You...you should _not_ be here,” it felt like someone was forcing the words out of his throat, a constriction that suddenly pressed upon him. Mjolnir felt like lead in his hands, weighing him down as he felt himself absently spinning it. He needed to return before his master- But he needed to stay- “You...should be in Asgard...”

Yes, yes, the magick user needed to be in Asgard because...Because- Terrible, terrible horrific things were happening there- He- He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, to push past the pounding agony that throbbed in his head, that he needed to warn- Had to- _He must warn them!_ He silently shouted and raged against the bonds that seemingly held him in place. He needed to warn him to return to Asgard because- _It's a trap! It is a trap, why are you so stupid for coming here?! You should not even be here! He_ wanted _you to be here! Go back! Go back! Asgard needs you!_ But he somehow could not force the words past his throat anymore, swallowing painfully against a lump that had formed there, as he gritted and bared his teeth.

He knew that there was a way for him to speak, but as he suddenly felt his muscles tense, ready to leave, he fought against it, push back against the barriers that kept him trapped in his own body. He _knew_ the magick user. Knew him. He needed to warn the magick- Needed-

 _Loki_.

Yes. Yes! That was it. That was...Loki...his brother, his stubborn, willful, obstinate, proud, petty, selfish _brother_ that stood before him. And for a second, he could see a flash of clarity of _who_ he was – he was...Thor, the Crown Prince of Asgard- And just as quickly, his clarity suddenly slipped out of his grasp, like fingers dancing across droplets of water which he could not grasp. It felt like someone was shading and pressing down upon his thoughts once more- suppressing the deep instinct-

And he reached out and clung desperately onto the fact that the magick user – Nornbless him sometimes for his stubbornness for not even attacking when he clearly had an advantage – was Loki. Was his _brother_. He thought he heard the howl and bark of something snapping painfully across the bond he had with his master, the pain blooming across his mind as he tried to suppress it-

“Well, I'm here,” the magick- No. Loki. Loki said as he held his glaive loosely in his hands.

He – _Who am I?_ \- could see that _Loki_ – Loki, Loki, Loki, brother, brother, brother – was flicking looks towards the insignificant humans that had surrounded them. They were dressed in blue and he had a faint whiff of recognition that he knew these were innocents, that these were friendlies, that he should not hurt them- He knew that they were afraid to come towards them, but all of them were pointing their guns at them. Their frightened and confused expression told them that they wanted to fire their ballistic weaponry, but the fact that they were hesitating told him that they at least recognize the danger and somehow, it made him relieved.

The sudden thump of boots behind him made him turn to see the metal man – again, who he somehow knew that he should have known – landing, his glowing hands pointed at him. Behind and above him was the whirling hum of the flying contraption that he knew he could easily down with one bolt of lightning from Mjolnir. The crowd that surrounded them gave a ragged cheer and all of the relief he had felt turned to concern. Innocents and civilians had no place in such a battle and as he spun Mjolnir harder, fighting the heavy command to leave and be done with it. He knew that he could not dally any longer. He delivered his warning and amiss the growing pressure against his head that made his vision blur a little, he had to leave before anymore innocents could be involved.

And suddenly felt the bloom of vicious pleasure that knifed through him. His master was...pleased? Something had happened, something far away that he knew deep down he was too late to prevent. That something had made his master pleased. He knew he should have been horrified that somehow, something like this would have once made him frown – when had it? - and retaliate, but-

“Thor, stand down,” the authoritative voice behind him made him turn a little to see the spangled soldier with the shield he knew to be almost indestructible, standing near the armored man. Beyond him, he could see the uniformed guards – _you should know them as police officers_ – start to swarm, driving the crowd back, falling back as they shouted orders. He had no doubt that someone had told them of the foolishness of civilians and innocents on the battlefield. He would not linger-

An suddenly found himself raising Mjolnir, firing off a bolt of lighting that was intercepted by the metal-armed man who leapt at him in a sudden attack. The hammer felt heavy in his hands as he twisted and turned, block strikes and sudden blows to his head by the one who wielded authority and shield as well as the serpent who struck at him, the metal suited man, and others who fired at him. He blocked an attack by the magick- no, by Loki, and swung at him with Mjolnir, gritting his teeth against its increasingly heavy weight.

He would not linger, would not-

His mind suddenly fled from all thought, the heavy oppressive weight of his master guiding him and he heaved a sigh of relief. However, he did not know why it was accompanied by the sudden feel of dread and regret as he held Mjolnir aloft, the hammer suddenly lighter than it ever was. His master was here, right here, right now, standing before him. His master would guide him. These...creatures in front of him, so dressed like costumed animals and nothing less than the vermin they were...these...creatures were not worthy. He would wait for his glorious master's command to smite them and strike them down where they stood. He would be his weapon and nothing would stop him. There was nothing but the glory of battle, the war that he so wanted to court and dance with. Death and destruction were his forte and he would relive the days of his youth.

 _“In my youth, I courted war..._ ”

He blinked and for a moment, Mjolnir felt so heavy in his hand as he stared at it.

 _“Loki, turn off the Tesseract_ -”

“ _You're too late! You're too late,” the madness was reflected in his eyes as tears fell down his face. “There is nothing but, the war.”_

And just like that, Mjolnir felt light again, that he need not worry about any war than the one his great and glorious master wanted him to fight. But now...now was not the time... The soothing balm of reassurance washed over him, and as much as he wanted to curl in comfort underneath it, something revolted against it, wanted him to push it away-

“You all are too late, it has already begun,” his master intoned and he wanted to nod and agree, but held himself still.

His master did not like him to be so sycophantic, and so he obeyed his commands. But he agreed. His master's will was his own and he would do his bidding. It was too late...that there was no hope now, that there would only be war, death, destruction and his master would allow him to be at the head of it. The pieces were in place and the master along with the one his master kept on his leash like the pet red-headed mage, would open the doors to him. That all would be well. And somehow, a very small part of him, the part that was nearly crushed by the indomitable will of Baldr wielding the Chitauri sceptre, wailed in anguish at his failure.

Asgard was going to fall. And he had let it fall.

* * *

“You all are too late, it has already begun,” the weathered old man intoned.

So this was Baldr. The supposed long-dead younger brother of Crown Prince Loki Borson and Odin Allfather. And truth be told, Loki did see the family resemblance in the wrinkled countenance of the other man. He had the same strong jawed face that dominated the whole of Odin's line, Thor included, but his other features were far more...delicate and regal than the heavy-set warrior facade of Odin and, again, of Thor. It certainly explained why he was considered adopted into the House of Bor as the third Prince, more than likely a bastard son fathered by Bor Allfather somewhere in his reign.

But Loki could also see why Baldr had easily hid from Heimdall's gaze for so long. There was something unassuming about his countenance, as if he could easily blend in with the mortals of Midgard. The softness and delicate parts of his features could almost pass for a gentle, kind grandfatherly look, and that in of itself made him immediately go on guard – if his sudden appearance out of thin air was no indication.

Loki quickly spelled the air, but felt no trace of portal magick or anything that would indicate how Baldr had arrived so suddenly. Instead, he suspected Baldr had something to do with the Chitauri sceptre he held in his hand; perhaps seemingly bewitching them so that they could not see him until he wanted to be seen – but even he could not sense the trace magick in the area. The place was too saturated by Mjolnir's ozone and his own retaliatory spells for him to discern without a concentrated effort.

And Loki had no intention of letting down his guard to actively scan the area with the sceptre nearby.

“Yeah, well, we're here to finish it,” the man of iron said with his arms raised, repulsors whining as they powered up. “Wanna let our friend go? Clearly you're just hiding behind his cloak and all.”

Baldr chuckled softly as he flexed his grip on the sceptre. “You, Tony Stark, should heed more warning from your companion here,” he gestured with a nod towards Loki, “he understands the danger far more than you and your feeble technology will ever comprehend.” He extended a hand out to his side and to Loki's surprise, suddenly drew a _very_ familiar thin blue line into the air.

The sudden stream of wriggling of _wrong_ danced as Loki felt the weave of portal magick. It caught him off guard and was so quick that he had not even had time to react as Baldr walked through it, Thor following. Just as suddenly, the portal sealed up from wherever Baldr had went, leaving the area in near silence. It was only then that Loki belatedly realize how he had woefully underestimated Baldr and what was happening. Baldr had the ability to weave through the shadows of Yggdrasil. The fact that _Baldr_ walked the shadows of Yggdrasil, used portal magick that Sleipnir of all people had claimed that he could not... Loki knew he had to tread carefully, that he had to know everything before confronting Baldr or even Thor once more.

“Shit, he did it again,” he heard the man of iron grumble as he lowered his arms, the whine of his repulsors dying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jormungandr shrink, his large serpentine form turning smaller as the threat of Baldr and Thor were over. But it was Stark's words that drew his attention.

“Baldr has done this before,” he stated, staring at the man of iron who stared back at him, his armor's mask expressionless and flat. Loki had the distinct feeling that Stark was glaring at him inside his suit.

“Yeah,” Stark replied, “wanna tell us about how knows that? Maybe like how you told Thanos-”

“Tony, that's enough,” before Loki could bristle at what Stark was saying, Captain Rogers stepped in between them, shield on his arm, and looked at the two of them with an even gaze.

Behind him, Loki saw the metal-armed man shadowing the Captain with a half-step forward of his own, almost oddly protectively. He tilted his head a little in acknowledgment of the man's prowess and fearless fight against Thor. He had certainly not expected the same man who had perceived him as a threat when he had first arrived, to outright attack Thor and even deflect Mjolnir's lightning with his arm. But he could at least acknowledge that of all of the paltry Avengers who had come to 'save' Thor with their pitiful attempts, the metal-armed man was the only one who truly had attacked without any thought of trying not to injure Thor. And that, to Loki, was the only way to knock some sense into his brother and get him away from the sceptre's influence.

It was clear the moment that Thor had attacked him that the sceptre and the Mind Gem atop its crown was controlling him. But he had also seen Thor fighting through it. Loki did not know what had made him hesitate in outright attacking his brother; all that was needed was a heavy blow to the head – which Thor always needed in his opinion – but something had screamed a cautious warning. He had not known what it was, until Baldr had shown up with the sceptre in hand. It had been different when Fenrir had wielded the sceptre in the bowls of the Helicarrier two years ago. He had not been as worried as he was with Baldr wielding it. He _knew_ Fenrir, knew what he was capable of and maybe might have known back then, that Fenrir did not know what he wielded.

Now, with Baldr's arrival with the sceptre, he knew that Baldr knew what was embedded in the crown of the Chitauri sceptre – the Mind Gem. And Baldr knew what he wielded as he had almost effortlessly held Thor in his thrall. Perhaps there might have been a time when Loki would have been concerned for Thor, but he was far more concerned with the fact that he _needed_ the sceptre out of Baldr's hands – if only to stop Sleipnir from using it through the power of the geas he had with Baldr to influence the whole of Asgard.

And now Baldr was gone once more – and far more disturbing was that he had left by opening the shadows of Yggdrasil. Which meant that Sleipnir had lied. Baldr did not _need_ Sleipnir to walk them through the shadows of Yggdrail to Asgard. He could have gone to Asgard any time with Thor in tow.

So the question became – what was Baldr still doing on Midgard?

And as much as it annoyed him to no end, Loki realized he needed the Avengers and their resources. He did not believe that Baldr would have gone elsewhere, not at the moment, and that he was still on Midgard. But as much as it had amused him to see the mortals scurrying about with their phones and cameras pointed at him, with their panic and fear of his presence – he was also aware that events in Stuttgart had only been a kindness. He snorted silently; Agent Romanov was right with her words – guns were pointed at him each time he arrived and it was a distraction he could not afford. He needed to find Baldr, now more than ever.

“Tell Director Coulson I am willing to negotiate,” he turned to the Captain who stared at him for a long moment before nodding and tapping his ear. Loki glanced around at the others who had cautiously approached. Beyond them, the crowds and policemen slowly started to gather once more after being scattered earlier by the Avengers' commands to evacuate. Appeasing them was an annoyance, but he also knew that not doing it would potentially delay the resources he needed from the Avengers. He dispelled his armor for a more casual version of his tunics and clothing and extended his hand out towards the ground. Jormungandr sprang up from the ground, slithering up to his shoulder where he curled around to watch everything.

As much as he loathed to admit it, he needed the Avengers and their resources; if only for them to distract Thor while he went after Baldr. Get the sceptre away from Baldr and his idiot brother would return to his usual, boisterous, _annoyingly_ mule-headed self. Get the sceptre away from Baldr and Asgard would be able to come to their senses and repel the incoming invasion from the Dark Elves. Get the sceptre away from Baldr and he, Loki, would be able to- Loki briefly smiled inwardly. Well, he would be able to finish _it_ once and for all.

* * *

The common area of the Avengers Tower had turned into an impromptu war room, with Maria, Stark, and Steve huddled in one corner doing media damage control as well as fielding calls from various government entities in the aftermath of what had happened in Union Square. Clint was on the opposite side of the room, staring at Jormungandr with an evaluating, but unreadable gaze. Near him was Sam who had a neutral expression on his face as he too stared at the young man that could instantly change from serpent to man. Surprisingly, James was sitting outside on the patio, but Natasha could tell that he was watching everyone and everything that happened in the common area with sharp eyes.

The only person that was not with them was Bruce and it was on his insistence that he be left alone with Loki. The two had headed straight to his lab in the aftermath of what had happened in Union Square. Coulson had gone down to Bruce's lab only a few minutes ago, no doubt to ferret out Loki's true intentions and while Natasha would have liked to have gone with him, she was far more curious about Jormungandr who had apparently not followed Loki down to the labs.

She had initially thought that Jormungandr would shadow the Asgardian everywhere, reminiscent of how he had hovered and protected Loki during the last few days since his arrival. Instead he was sitting on one of the couches in the common area, hands hovering over several healing stones. She had no doubt that he was casting a spell of sorts, but for the moment, it seemed that his focus was the healing stones instead of slinging spells anywhere. She did not know if Jormungandr was capable of even casting offensive spells like Loki, her knowledge of Asgardian magic and the like limited to what she only knew and read in reports.

She had seen Loki hand over a small bag of what was now revealed to be the healing stones, and one of his semi-transparent modulars with something glowing inside to Jormungandr as they had made their way back to the Tower. The younger man seemed utterly shocked, more so by the modular he had been handed than the bag of healing stones. He had stared at whatever was inside with something akin to longing and adulation, speechless, before holding it close to himself. Any other person would have thought that it would have been a weapon of sorts, but somehow that did not seem to case to Natasha as she sat down on the couch across the coffee table strewn with healing stones and Jormungandr hunched over the small pile.

She had never really met Jormungandr before, her previous encounters with him were from a distance. Thor had never explained what it meant for someone to have their core flayed, but she had gotten the general gist that it was more meant as punishment for those who used and abused magic in the Realms than for the apparent warriors like Thor. She still did not understand how magic equated to advance technology and Thor never deigned to explain, but she had come to understand that flaying someone of their magic and core was probably similar to how she had her memories wiped occasionally in the Red Room. Most recently, she supposed it was similar to James Barnes' predicament of losing his memories and seared with a mental brand of executing missions that he constantly fought against. She herself had such a mental brand of sorts, her original mission to kill Colonel Nicholas J. Fury keeping her sharply honed and focused on _not_ doing just that.

It stood to reason that perhaps since it was speculated that advance technology like the Chitauri sceptre or Tesseract was involved in the Red Room mind wiping process, maybe Jormungandr having his magic core removed was similar. Nonetheless, she was rather curious as to how Jormungandr – for not having any magic so to speak – was able to do what he was currently doing; unless he was using the healing stones in some way or form?

“When we face Baldr again, you will need these for protection,” Jormungandr suddenly spoke, glancing up through his eyelashes at her. She paused and stared back at him a little more than impressed that he had caught her out in her initial attempt to ask him what he was doing.

“You forget, Agent Romanov, of my brother's profession both in and out of our coterie with Loki,” Jormungandr's icy blue eyes held the barest hint of mischief, one that Natasha was less inclined to trust, but nonetheless decided to acknowledge with the tilt of her head. This close, Jormungandr looked terribly young, younger than her, almost like a lanky teenager. However, looks were deceptive and she suspected that the young man had probably a few hundred years on her.

“Fenrir was an assassin,” she remembered hearing Loki's conversation with Thor when he had first wakened after being savaged by Fenrir's wolf form. “Are you?”

“In the aspects of poison and the like,” he shrugged, “my brother was far better at the craft than I was. Still, it was a way to make a living and you do pick up on certain techniques.”

It was only then that Natasha realized that Jormungandr and by extension, Fenrir, were what Asgardian society considered peasantry. Not only was his words indicative of such a lifestyle, but a quick glance at what he wore confirmed it. He was dressed almost in the same style of clothing he had worn during his sentencing, but there were some differences. His brown leather jacket was well-worn, but had impeccable stitching that held it together, indicating that it had been professionally made and was high-quality. However, his shirt underneath, while looking like one of the servants and pages outfits of the Asgardian Court based on her memory, showed signs of a jagged stitch, of small tears and repairs that clearly indicated someone who had bought it a long time ago and cared for it because there was little to no money. There was also the sense that Jormungandr, while he wore his leather jacket, was still somewhat uncomfortable in it – as if he wore it just because it had been given to him by someone – treasured like clothes he wore underneath it.

And considering the pseudo-medieval customs of Asgard, he suspected that Fenrir and Jormungandr's professions were heavily frowned down upon, besides being peasantry to boot. She would know as assassinations were still frowned upon in this day and age. “You worked in pairs,” she stated and saw him start a little, surprised by her deduction before he nodded a little.

“I was usually the spotter,” he said, “much easier to pinpoint a target when he or she is weakened by poisons.”

“Or heal someone in order to extract information out of them,” she pointed out and saw the corner of his lips twitch in a faint sardonic smile. It was a little eerily like Fenrir's smile now that she saw him up close. Though there was definitely a difference between the two, she could still see the similarities that made the two brothers. “Fenrir looked after you.”

“Aye, he did,” Jormungandr reached over and moved one of the stones to a different pile before placing another one underneath his hand and silently twitched his fingers over it. Natasha watched for a moment, curiously wondering why she could not see any overt spell casting like Loki's.

“Healing magick is not as flashy as say, destructive ones,” Jormungandr answered her unspoken question, “subtle, silent-”

“Perfect tools for an assassin,” she met his gaze with one of her own. She was well aware of the shift that had taken place in the room when Jormungandr had spoken up earlier. Everyone was still seemingly doing their own thing, but all were aware of the conversation happening.

“Yes,” he nodded once, “quick strikes like a viper, or perhaps a spider.” He gave her a steady look, “I apologize, for my actions towards you two years previous. My brother's vengeance drove his madness and I followed out of duty.”

“Duty?”

“Fenrir was the more quick tempered of the two of us,” Jormungandr had a small fond smile on his lips, “and his perceived slights that Loki had inflicted on him cut him deeply. He always thought that the clemency Loki had requested of the Allfather was nothing more than a farce, that he would have long had died first before given the chance to live in such an imprisonment.”

“You didn't feel the same?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, doubting the younger man's words.

“As much as I loved my brother, I am just grateful that I was able to survive,” Jormungandr replied, “even amongst the mages of our kind, we were considered abominations. I happen to like living far better than spending my days in Hel's realm. She would be good company, but with the other souls of the damned?” He shook his head, “Valhalla would never be opened to my brother and I because of our nature and because of our actions.”

“Or its a chance for you to bide your time,” she pointed out and he shrugged.

“I was given a second chance,” he stared at her knowingly before flicking a look towards Clint, “perhaps not so dissimilar to your case, Agent Romanov?”

Natasha tilted her head in acknowledgment of his words – he would not stab Loki in the back or make any overt moves against them for the moment. Then again, she wondered if Loki kept Jormungandr close like the old adage, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Whatever it was, she would accept Jormungandr's words for now. “A second chance does not necessarily mean you could still cast magic,” she pointed out with a finger towards what he was doing.

“Loki gave me some of his magic,” Jormungandr said and looked to say more when out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Steve step away from Hill and Stark.

“Strucker said something similar, right before he blew up the room he had been put in for questioning,” Steve frowned, “He said that his master was Vasily Karpov, or rather, the guy who called himself Baldr. You and Loki know of him?”

“This confirms the connection Sleipnir has with Baldr,” Jormungandr stopped what he was doing, his face pensive as he rubbed his jaw. A second later he extended his hand out to his side and Natasha blinked, sitting back a little in surprise at the sudden appearance of an almost translucent looking wolf cub. The wolf cub seemingly sniffed at the bag of healing stones before hopping off of the coffee table and loped towards the direction of the elevators.

“No need to shoot me Agent Barton,” Jormungandr gave a side ways look towards Clint who had drawn his bow and was pointing an arrow at Jormungandr, “it was only a familiar spell. One used to communicate with other mages if they are not within the vicinity.”

Natasha saw Steve hold up a hand and Clint shrug before lowering his bow, but still kept the arrow primed. “So you know of him, this...Sleipnir.”

“In so much as what he has chosen to reveal to us, yes,” Jormungandr stared at him with a simple gaze before turning to look at all of them, “I know what you are trying to do, what you want to know. Why Loki said he was after Thor when it's apparent that he's after Baldr?” There was something in his gaze that hinted at a bit of disdain and exasperation at their roundabout attempt at questioning him.

“You want to tell us, or you're going to stay silent like you've pretty much have been since you and Reindeer Games arrived?” Stark spoke up from where he was, leveling Jormungandr with a look.

“Thor is your concern because you are his coterie, are you not?” Jormungandr asked, “you would come to his aid no matter the circumstance or problem and would gladly do anything to rescue him from any perils he might have unknowingly walked into.” The young man gave them a mirthless smile, eerily like the ones Loki always sported, “Asgard is under a spell driven by Sleipnir and his geas connection to Baldr. As much as I would love to see the Allfather's head on a spike, my own feelings regarding what has happened to Asgard is irrelevant.”

Natasha could hear the unspoken conviction that Jormungandr was absolutely loyal to Loki and that his own feelings on the matter had been pushed to the side in order to do Loki's will. She was a little more than surprised by it given what she had seen Loki do to Jormungandr on the Helicarrier, or even the fact that Loki had killed his brother Fenrir without a second thought. It certainly contradicted what she would have thought Jormungandr would feel in relation to Loki.

He reached out and pushed forward one of the healing stones that had been spelled towards Natasha and looked at her, “You will need these when we face Baldr. Not because of the sceptre's Mind Gem – that is mine and Loki's concern, but because he is a magister.”

“And that's relevant because...?” Sam spoke up from his corner, crossing his arms across his chest.

“If the texts we had researched are correct, Baldr is the third son of Bor Allfather, Odin's predecessor,” Jormungandr's expression turned serious. “Asgardians rarely live past five thousand years give or take a few hundred. Warriors would enter their prime years and fade, but mages.” he gave a quick humorless smile, “mages age like the mead of yore. There are those who spend their whole lives studying the arts, becoming advisers, growing stronger, attaining titles and ranks while their bodies become withered, old, decrepit.”

“And I take it magister is probably the highest rank?” Steve jumped in and Jormungandr flashed him the same humorless smile in confirmation.

“So what? Doesn't mean-”

“If Sleipnir's words are true, then you do not want to face Baldr unprotected,” he gestured to the healing stones he was working on, “they will not protect you in the long run, but they will give you a chance.”

“To do what?” Stark challenged, “we're not running away and we're certainly going to get Thor back.”

“I think you're lying,” Clint suddenly spoke up, stepping forward from where he was. His bow was still holding the arrow in it, but Natasha noticed that he was plucking at the string in an absent manner, a sign that he was not going to shoot the arrow, yet. “Thor was fighting it. Fighting Baldr's commands or whatever when we fought him. I could see it. Why the hell would he let us hit him so much and get close enough for us to try to hit him in the head? Baldr's doesn't look like this God-Almighty-level magister you're going on about. He certainly has the sceptre, but he didn't do much since he got it two years ago. He definitely didn't do much when I was there and basically relied on the sceptre the whole damn time.”

“And what do you think he will do to this coterie of yours _after_ you have your precious Crown Prince back in your ranks?” Jormungandr countered, glaring at Clint, “the fact that he was able to _walk_ the shadows of Yggdrasil-”

“Something not many are able to do?” Natasha had been curious about Loki's ability to appear and disappear without a trace, completely bypassing the need for the Bifrost to transport himself anywhere. She did not know if Jormungandr could do it, considering he had been by Loki's side since he had arrived on Earth.

“It was long considered that Hel, because she was one of the daughters of Death, was the only one able to walk the shadows of Yggdrasil, to find the shadowy paths where no one could see,” he replied, “it is a feat that puts considerable strain on one's core. Even I know little of the weave and magicks with it.”

Tony snorted loudly in disbelief and Natasha could see that he wanted to dismiss Jormungandr's words. At the same time she also saw Steve evaluating it and considering it, his lips compressed. Natasha wondered if he was thinking of his own brief experience under Baldr's influence when he was forced to fight them as a distraction while Baldr went after Thor.

Clint's expression betrayed nothing, but Natasha knew that he too was considering Jormungandr's words, even though she knew that he hated anything and everything to do with Loki, magic or no magic. But she also knew him well enough that he was thinking of his time undercover in Karpov's HYDRA base and what had happened there.

She had only read the after-action reports of when Hel had attacked Trafalgar Square in London two years ago, to draw the Avengers there before giving Bruce the vial of Jormungandr's poison to make the anti-venom; but it seemed that Hel had seemingly stopped even Bruce from changing into the Hulk, quieting him to the point where Bruce had said that he had felt the Hulk _sleeping_ of all things.

When Thanos had used the portals to unleash the remains of his Chitauri army on Green Bank, Montreal, Tønsberg, and then on Asgard three years previous; it had been a sight to behold, but she had no context in relation to what it meant to do such a thing. But now, it certainly made sense in all of the times when Loki had open his portals to get from place to place. It certainly explained his actions in the remnants of Karpov's base, fighting to the point of exhaustion and even then some more. It also certainly explained how Loki was able to sense and contain Thanos' portals three years ago – because he knew the spellwork or whatever magic was involved in it.

So to put it into context with Baldr's disappearance from the base when the Avengers had stormed it to rescue Tony, Sam, Agent Triplett and May, it at least gave her an inkling of how big of a threat Baldr was. He was already a threat just by virtue of having the sceptre and converting Thor, but Natasha could see where Jormungandr was going by telling them of what to expect after they got Thor back and what he was doing with the healing stones. Jormungandr did have a point – even if they got Thor back, there was still the sceptre to wrest away from Baldr's grip. If he was this...magister...according to Jormungandr, then they would have their work cut out for them.

“Could this explain why Baldr hasn't just gone to Asgard? I mean, we don't know much about traveling through the branches of Yggdrasil or whatever it's called, but it seems like you're able to cross realms, right?” Steve spoke up crossing his arms as he stared at Jormungandr.

“Yes,” Jormungandr nodded slowly, “it would certainly explain it. The effort expended in keeping Thor's mind suppressed combined with pulling him through the aberrations of the branches...”

“Thor was fighting it,” Clint reiterated stubbornly.

“And that is the only thing that stubborn idiot is good for,” Loki voice was followed by his sudden appearance in the common area as he stalked in from the direction of the elevators. Coulson was following behind him as was Bruce, both whom had grimaces on their faces.

“Loki I don't think-” Bruce started, but was cut off by Loki as he headed straight towards Steve.

“What did you glean from Baldr's mind, Captain,” he demanded as Steve involuntarily drew himself up, surprise flitting across his face before it hardened into a stubborn line. Natasha shook her head a little as she half-rose out of her seat, holding a hand up to stop James from doing anything rash at Loki's charge.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Steve's brows were knitted as he frowned and Natasha saw Loki pause, staring at him for a long moment before shaking his head.

“Loki-”

“Dr. Banner and Agent Coulson here made mention of Baldr controlling you briefly with the sceptre-”

“Hey, you can't just barge in here and ask something like that-”

“-And every person that has been under the sceptre's control can see bits and pieces of plans, faces, memories even of the one that has controlled them,” Loki cut off Tony's protest as he took another step towards Steve. There was a sardonic smile on the Trickster's face as he jerked a thumb back, “Ask Agent Barton-”

“That's fucking it-”

“No, wait Clint-”

Natasha scrambled from her seat, automatically drawing out one of her guns and activating her Widow's Bite, as the room nearly erupted into chaos. Coulson was barely holding Clint's bow down, the arrow drawn and pulled back to the point of release. Sam had leap at Clint, and pulled at his shoulder to calm him down. James had stood up from where he was outside, eyes narrowed, assessing who was the greatest threat in the room and even Maria had dropped her tablet and pulled out her handgun, pointing it directly at Loki. Tony had an emergency repulsor glowing in his hand, also pointed at Loki. It was only the sudden burst of heat near her that Natasha glanced over to see Jormungandr with literal balls of flame in his hands, ready to attack whomever had threatened Loki as everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the young man.

“Just a Healer...huh,” Bruce commented quietly as out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw that Loki was glaring at Jormungandr.

“Jor,” the Asgardian sounded angry and to her surprise she saw the balls of flame disappear before Jormungandr sat back down on the couch and meekly resumed what he had been doing with the healing stones without a single word. That was interesting...

“It was Thanos,” Steve said into the silence, bringing her gaze back to him and she blinked, surprised by his admission. They all knew that Steve had been notoriously tight-lipped about what had happened in the base. They all had given him the space he clearly needed, dancing around the subject when they had spent the last week discussing Kaprov, Baldr, and running searches for any sign of Thor. Steve's lips were compressed into a thin line as his nostrils flared in frustration. “I thought I saw Thanos.” Natasha could see the clear signs of guilt that ate away at Steve, at what he was forced to do – to fight them – when he could not even break from Baldr's influence and the sceptre's power.

She saw Loki stare at Steve for what seemed to be a long moment and wondered if he was going to press the issue. That moment was broken as Loki shook his head a little, seemingly lost in thought.

“How does Thanos relate to Baldr?” Bruce asked, gingerly stepping into the room as the others relaxed and holstered their weapons, the moment over. “I thought he was, uh, kind of stuck in the Tesseract?”

Natasha had to hide her smile at Jormungandr's start of surprise, having not realized that they had not put their radios away and heard his whole conversation while Bruce and Coulson had been working with Loki downstairs. However, the hidden smile disappeared as she looked closer at Loki who uncharacteristically still seemed utterly lost in thought. In fact, he looked more disturbed than anything else, seemingly not even paying attention to Bruce's question.

“Loki?” it seemed Bruce picked up on it too, wrinkling his nose a little. Natasha wondered what the Hulk smelled off of Loki – was it fear? A troubling sense of something that they needed to be worried about? Natasha knew that the others did not exactly know that the Hulk had enhanced Bruce's senses outside of being the Hulk, but she had learned quickly since the Hulk had rampaged across the Helicarrier. The Hulk reacted to the smell of fear a lot more dangerously than anything else.

“...The Allfather said we were not to leave Asgard...” Jormungandr spoke up quietly, and Natasha saw the same disturbing expression on his face, “Loki...if...the possibility that the Crown Prince himself was saying for us to be in Asgard...he was fighting it...you know best what the sceptre does, and was warning- The Dark Elves with the Aether and army- Sleipnir said-”

The sudden visible ripple of something seemingly shattering away from Loki as he flung a hand out, made Natasha flinch and grab the butt of her handgun again. But she did not draw it out as Loki suddenly brushed past Steve and Tony, headed straight towards the doors that led out to the landing pad for the Iron Man armor. However, he only managed to take a few steps forward when the sudden screaming wash of starlight that heralded the Bifrost's activation slammed down on the platform itself.

Natasha squinted against the brightness of the Bifrost before it disappeared, leaving behind four figures, all whom looked like they had been through a horrific battle. She recognized Lady Sif, standing at the forefront, her hair matted with dripping blood, whatever was left of her armor stained with red and black dripping liquid, most likely blood, along with what looked like burnt scorch marks. She was bleeding from numerous cuts and what looked like a very severe gash down the length of one of her legs. Natasha did not recognize any of the three behind her, all of them also looking worst for wear with cuts, bruises, and blood dripping down their sides and faces. Sif stepped forward, walking through the doors that had originally opened for Loki.

“...Sif...” even Loki sounded shocked, almost stuttering her name and that was when Natasha saw that Sif was holding a very familiar looking golden spear, the same spear she had seen Odin hold so many times: Gungnir.

She held the spear out to Loki, “Asgard has fallen, my King.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Um. Yeah, many apologies for the month-long delay. This chapter would not cooperate due to certain characters refusing to interact with others unless they were significantly pin-cushioned to the wall (Hawkeye, I'm looking at you), so I had to work around it. Also, "Daredevil" kind of distracted me for a while there, but luckily I had "Avengers: Age of Ultron" to put me back on track. Hooray!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

_“Asgard has fallen, my King.”_

The words still echoed in Loki's head like a very bad nightmare as he stared out into the darkened skies of the city of New York. The artificial bright lights of the city dimmed the night sky to the point where no starlight or wisp of nebula could even penetrate it, leaving only the inky black sky for him to look at. Still, if he really had to debase his own thoughts, he supposed that the bright lights of the mortal city could be akin to starlight. It was a very... _Thor_ thought, but one he could not help but cling onto at the moment.

Asgard had fallen.

_Loki stared at Sif, stunned. Asgard had...what? He barely comprehended that she was bleeding from a large gash down the length of one of her legs, or the fact that she was covered in dirt, soot, red and black ichor, exhaustion evident in her eyes. He could only stare mutely at the simple golden spear named Gungnir that was in her outstretched hands. Even though he had seen it numerous times, had been close to it, had even held it briefly during his short tenure as regent, he had never truly stared at Gungnir like this before. There were flecks of dried blood running up and down the length of the staff. The butt end along with its spear-point were both covered liberally in still-dripping blood, a sign that it had fought a great battle. He could feel the hum of still active magicks, the buzzing thrum right behind his front teeth. It would have been an uncomfortable feeling had he not been desensitized to it after being near it for so long._

_Loki found his mouth dry and swallowed heavily as he tentatively reached out and accepted its weight as Sif released it to him. Like before, when he had been regent, he could feel the rush of power traveling through him, the ancient magicks that granted the authority and power to wield Gungnir itself, weaving its subtle magicks over him. He could feel the barest hints of where the power had threaded to and to his shock, he felt it faintly pulse with something that could have been equated to pain, the living magick of Gungnir that had built and ruled Asgard for eons. The best way he could describe what was happening was that Gungnir magick was similar to that of Mjolnir, spellwork and all, except without the caveats of whomever was to be worthy of the hammer. One could only wield Gungnir by the authority of the previous owner._

_And it had accepted him once more._

_The shifting clink of armor made him look beyond Gungnir to see Sif kneeling before him, one hand across her breastplate in fealty. Beyond her, he saw that it was not the Warriors Three that had accompanied her, but rather Huugin and Muunin, both in their human forms, heads bowed towards him in respect while they tightly held the chains of a very defiant and bloodied Sleipnir._

_“Explain,” Loki was mildly surprised at how calm his own voice sounded in light of what Sif had just said and handed to him._

_“It was as you had forewarned us, milord,” Sif started a bit stiffly and Loki felt the rush of vicious pleasure, but restrained himself only just from saying 'I told you so' to her face. “The ancient ancestors of Dark Elves attacked in a number we had never thought to be possible. Their leader, Malekith, distorted the very fabric of reality to cloak his ships in a shadow we could not detect until it was too late. We had not heeded the warnings of Heimdall nor of your foresight, blinded by our very own thoughts and trickery that had prejudiced us to what was had been laid bare.” She gestured with her chin to Sleipnir bound behind her, “The traitor that had felled Asgard's defenses confessed to the Allmother in the midst of battle before we were overrun. I was tasked to bring him before the Allfather for judgment, before the Allfather commanded me to take Gungnir and the prisoner to you.”_

_“And Odin Allfather?” Loki asked softly._

_“He was last seen with the the Warriors Three defending the Vaults, milord,” Sif looked up at him, worry evident in her gaze at the implications of what she had reported, but Loki only stared at Gungnir._

_“The stone will call to the stone,” he murmured quietly. The mysterious Dark Elf that had wielded the power of the Aether finally had a name and Loki knew knew why Malekith had gone straight to the Vaults in his attack. It seemed that Odin had also known exactly why and more than likely had every single Einhenjar and capable warrior of Asgard defending it. He thought he could feel the ghost of something touching his shoulder, the barest feeling, but brushed it off. It was his imagination, the lingering fear and terror he had felt during his time under Thanos' influence. The Allfather was a very capable warrior as were the others. They would not fall so easily._

_“M-My King...” Sif's voice had taken on a hesitant tone and Loki snapped his eyes up to look at her. She looked down, refusing to meet his gaze, “T-The Allmother...Loki...your mother...Frigga, the Queen died in the attack.” The last of her words came out in a rush, but it mentally rocked him back on his heels as he stared at her, almost unable to comprehend the words._

_Sif opened her mouth again to say something else, but closed it after a few seconds and instead, looked down towards the ground, seemingly oblivious to the blood she was dripping on the tiled floor. Something hollowed opened up a void in Loki as he finally processed her words, a part of him wanting to shake his head in denial, another part of him still almost unable to believe what she said. And just as suddenly, he viciously shoved that part of him down, his grip on Gungnir tightened to the point that he realized his knuckles were white. He forced himself to relax his grip._

_“Continue,” again, he marveled at how steady his own voice sounded._

_“Heimdall has given his word that the Bifrost will be destroyed after we had arrived, milord,” Sif stuttered a little over her next words, “A-Asgard was burning when we had received our orders- Loki-”_

_It felt like he was not in control of his own body as Loki realized that his hand was raised and that he was close to ripping through the shadows of Yggdrasil to Asgard. He blinked again as he hesitated, Sif's words finally catching up to him. He lowered his hand, squeezing the burnished metal of Gungnir tightly to control himself before he looked beyond Sif towards the human-formed ravens who held Sleipnir's chains. The icy blue eyed, red-haired mage stared back at him, an oddly familiar defiant look in his gaze. He had seen such a look before-_

Loki pulled himself from the memory as he felt the sudden shift and change of air near him, the coolness of a familiar body materializing out of literal thin air. He absently added a warming spell to the one that continued to cloak him from the eyes of others in the Tower – or for anyone else for that matter. “Did she suffer?” he asked quietly as Hel all but almost pressed herself against him, the flare of the warming spell countering her cool-deathly touch. One of her hands absently danced across his own in greeting, placed flatly on the balcony's railings.

“No,” she replied in her customary monotone, but Loki could hear the faint edge of sorrow in it and smiled bitterly. It was a very cold day in her realm if she actually was trying to comfort him. “She arrived safely and painlessly,” Hel continued, “I have given her over to the Valkyries. She died a warrior and battlemage.”

“And her murderer still lives,” he replied.

“Yes, he does,” Hel's spindly fingers ghosted over his own, sending spots of flaring warmth across his knuckles and parts of his fingers. “What will you do now, 'o King of Asgard-”

Loki's anger flared as he suddenly reached out and gripped her hand with his own, squeezing it tightly in warning, “Do not _mock_ me, Hel.” He glared at her only to see her shoot him a mirthless smile, seemingly unaffected by how much crushing force he was exerting on her hand. The warming spell burned hotly against his palm, but he ignored the pain.

“You have _everything_ you have ever wanted, my King. You have a throne, a crown, Gungnir of your own free will. You have power, you have pity, you have love, and your _brother_ has nothing,” she said, staring at him with a sharp look, “I am _not_ mocking you.”

“ _Not_ everything,” he growled out, suddenly angry with her, but her smiled grew only wider, sharper, more predatory and razor-like.

“You have the means of seeking out what you wish the most,” she said, “and you have sacrificed what you hold most dear for it. You just do not realize it yet-”

“I have not sacrificed _it_ yet,” he countered, glaring at her before she suddenly pulled her hand out of his own as if it had not been squeezed to the point of breaking bones.

“You have,” Hel made a tsking noise as the smile dropped from her face, her voice resuming its usual monotone, almost emotionless candor, “you have not realized it yet because you are clinging onto the threads of what you do not want changed.

“You stand before a precipice. Swing one way, and the doors will open, but at the highest cost. Swing the other and the path will be filled with unimaginable pain and suffering. The cost will be negligible,” she continued, tracing an absent hand across his shoulders as she moved to his other side. She reached out and touched Gungnir, an inscrutable expression crossing her face as the innate magick on it seemingly reacted, a shine of gold flaring across it before it quieted. “You have everything, my King, and yet you think you have nothing,” she said in a simple tone, turning back to look at him, “are you so selfish to want the world laid out before you?”

“Like _him_ ?” he asked, a hard look on his face as he stared back out at the city. He hated to admit that she was right – that technically he did have everything he ever wanted right here, right now. He was King, given Gungnir of Odin's free will instead of having his mother give it to him with the resentment of others looking on. Sif had even bowed to him, a far cry from the last time she had taken a royal audience with him. The ravens actually acknowledged his control of Gungnir. And Thor...Thor had _nothing_. Thor had not even factored into any of this.

And he had _nothing_.

Asgard was burning, reduced to ashes if not razed by enemy forces. The Bifrost was destroyed if Heimdall was true to his word – and Loki had no doubts that Heimdall was always true to his word. For all of the literal things he knew the Guardian to talk and to say, the man was always literal to a fault. The Vaults were more than likely pillaged by now; Odin and the Warriors Three captured if not outright killed. And he was stuck on this Nornforsaken ball of _dust_ with the very mortals he had tried to conquer and mostly detested – he reserved judgment for Dr. Banner and maybe Agent Romanov, as well as the nameless metal-armed man that had deftly attacked him without the slightest provocation and more than likely had read him as just a threat – who were _Thor's_ friends.

“Still afraid to speak his name?” Hel tilted her head at him, the reflection of the moon across her glasses sending motes of lights dancing across the darkened balcony.

“Has Odin passed through your realm?” he pushed aside her question as she smoothed out an absent wrinkle from her formless dress, sending an invisible wash of power and the silent howls of the damned across the balcony.

She closed her eyes briefly, her lips compressing just a little bit in concentration before she opened them again, “No.”

The implicit understanding that hung between the two of them was that it had been an irrelevant question at best. Even if Odin did not appear in her realm could mean that he was either still fighting Malekith's forces in the Vaults, or that he had been captured already. Neither boded well for him. But she had obliged his request and he thinned his own lips at his next question, “Would you greet him like an old friend? A member of his coterie?”

The corners of her lips twitched up in a mirthless smile, and he knew from long experience with her that on another person, it would have been a boisterous laugh. “Jealousy does not suit you, my King.”

“Neither does it you, Queen of the Dead,” he shot back and saw her smile drop just a hair. It was rare that anyone was able to surprise Hel, being Death's daughter and all. She had such an awareness around her; her fickleness and unpredictability making her just like her mother in respects. Her whims and her rule was more ordered and perhaps more regulated than Death's legendary fickleness, so maybe there was an aspect of 'humanity' if one wanted to call it, with Hel that was never with Death. Death was death, simple as that. Hel was...

“The dead had come from Jotunheim back then,” Hel shrugged as she danced a few spindly fingers across his shoulder and down his right arm, sending bursts of heat from where her cool-death touch met his warming spell. “A purge of Jotun magisters, of corrupted magick and of blood-borne destruction whence my mother's nature was sated. The lifeless Jotun magisters reported that a new power was rising with the purge of the old power and control of the universe they once held.”

“Asgard,” Loki replied softly.

“Such upheavals are common,” Hel seemed indifferent by his answer, “happening every so often, but in this one, my mother had taken a new lover, enamored by the sheer amount of destruction and the soaking of the bloodbath that she could have drowned thousands upon thousands of babes in.”

“...Thanos?”

Hel's fingers continued their dance up and down his arm, “Jealousy did not beget his rival as Thanos bathed the stars in the the blood of others.”

“Thanos had a rival for Death's affections?” Loki was surprised to hear that. He would have expected Thanos to have no rivals, the sheer amount of power he commanded and the way he had suppressed- He drew in a sharp breath, stopping himself from going down the dark thoughts from _that time_...that time of ill-gotten mistakes, desperation, and of-

“Hindsight reveals everything, the securing of status, of power, of knowledge, the actions taken in foolishness and in insecurities,” Hel's words drew him out of his tunneling dark thoughts and he grasped on them, suddenly wondering why he had all but faltered and thought of the shadows and of the infinite pain that Thanos had unleashed upon him now. Talking about him had triggered it, he knew that, but it had also seemingly opened up something he had been pushing at ever since Thanos had been trapped in the Tesseract. “Of what would build a kingdom, the power to suppress worlds, realms, spreading the roots of power-”

“The Tesseract-”

Her expression had not changed, but Loki caught the subtle smile behind the barest glint of her glasses and by the way the warming spell flared brightly as she pressed on his upper arm. She absently drew lines back and forth on one of his shoulders with a finger as she stared out into the same inky night of the Midgardian city.

“And...”

“...Bifrost,” though Loki was used to layering his conversations with her, he also knew that she liked puzzling out a conversation too. More often than not, it was a a way to ferret out clues that they might have missed the first time around during one of their adventures. “No,” he corrected himself, “Yggdrasil...which means, Bor Allfather was Thanos' rival...for Death? But, that would not make sense-” He paused, a frown on his face as he thought hard about what he had learned in recent days and what he knew.

Sleipnir had said that Asgard was a race of conquerors, using their martial might to suppress rebellions, keep order within the realms. But he also knew that there were realms hidden in the shadows of Yggdrasil, realms that were not under Asgard's direct control whether by sheer fact of not being seen or because they were not part of Yggdrasil itself.

Then there was Yggdrasil itself. Everyone had taken its formation by happenstance, but Thor for all of his blunt, brute force, had proven that it was capable of being destroyed. The Bifrost itself proved capable of destroying worlds upon worlds, his attempted purge of Jotunheim four years previous telling him that. But it was the _Tesseract_ that had proven that it was capable of rebuilding such world destroying, peace enforcing, thing like the Bifrost. It was capable of opening portals between space, transporting armies, persons between realms and beyond that.

What better weapon than the Tesseract to challenge Thanos as a rival for Death's affections?

And who but Asgard wielded such power in their conquering of realms? In their creation of Yggdrasil the World Tree and enforcement of peace?

“...Then how do the Dark Elves factor...” he muttered mostly under his breath as he rubbed his lip absently, before he realized it. The Dark Elves that had attacked him in the Aether's resting spot wore ancient armor, and did not look like the current generation of Dark Elves that he knew and had seen in audiences with Odin Allfather. In fact, the last time he had seen such ancient armor was written in the rare history tomes that they were during roughly Bor Allfather's time.

And if Asgard was a race of conquerors, it meant that Bor Allfather had utterly wiped out Malekith's kin and kith in his quest to unite the nine realms. Svartalheim was more than likely razed and replaced with the current generation of Dark Elves. But how did Malekith know about the Aether's location unless... “Malekith somehow knew Thanos...” he said, “Sleipnir was not able to send me through to the Aether's resting place until he used the power of the sceptre through the geas he had with Baldr there. I was able to leave using the Tesseract through the geas I made with Thanos...” He frowned harder, his grip absently tightening on Gungnir, “But Malekith is one of the ancient Dark Elves...” He glanced over to Hel, “Malekith knew Thanos when he and Bor Allfather were rivals for Death's affections-”

Loki abruptly stopped as it hit him at the same time he saw _something_ in Hel's eyes and realized what it had really been about thousands upon thousands of years previous. “What is the Aether?” he asked even though he felt like he already knew the answer.

“Reality,” she replied, her hand stopping its lazy motions and instead, rested next to his.

The sudden weight of what he had within his possession, in the spaces in between, felt like having a bligesnipe dropped on him and left there; leaving him struggling with its enormous weight. “There are six slots,” he said, “where are the other three?”

“Far, far from the realms themselves,” she looked pleased at his progress, at unfurling the layers of the puzzle she had presented him. It was akin to peeling skeins off of a complex modular, but there was no weaving a new addition or improving it – at least not yet. “Odin's unexpected imprisonment of Thanos in the Tesseract has hampered his plans greatly for the three beyond his grasp.”

Loki nodded mostly to himself as he furrowed his brow, piece together more of the puzzle that had been presented before him. Bor, before he became Allfather, must have somehow wielded the Tesseract, the Space Gem. He used it it to carve out a place for Asgard and its people, to conquer his corner of the universe. But if there had been others who wielded the Infinity Stones in other capacities, it seemed prudent that others carved out their own parts of universe for themselves. Thanos had one as did Malekith, except Thanos had the Mind Gem back then – the Chitauri sceptre given to him by the Other was proof of that. Malekith must have had the Aether. Whomever wielded the other three Infinity Stones was of no concern to him at the moment. It seemed that based on what Hel said about Thanos and Bor being rivals for Death's affections, Bor must have betrayed or tricked the two into who they were now – Thanos hidden in the shadows of Yggdrasil, biding his time to strike; Malekith near wherever the Aether was, waiting for the right moment to bring Asgard down.

He was pretty sure that none of the three in question had created the Infinity Stones, but that they had apparently used them to great effect eons ago. There was also the fact that the three more than likely knew about the other three unnamed Stones; considering Thanos tasked him to retrieve the Infinity Gauntlet from the Vaults three years ago. Whether or not they knew who wielded the three other Infinity Stones was another question, but not one Loki cared about at the moment. If Hel said that they were far from the realms, he would take no more note of it. She had never lied, even when layering her words.

“And the coterie?” he finally asked, turning back to his original question. Odin's coterie had formed long after all of this had happened; so what was Hel's purpose in it?

She only stared at him, but he read a faint amusement in her eyes, “As I have stated, jealousy does not become you, my King.”

“And neither does it you,” he countered again, meeting her look with a raised eyebrow before she acquiesced to his request with a tilt of her head.

“You were not the first to ask me to watch over those in my realm, my King,” she said, “sentiment.”

“Because _Death's_ daughter feels the emotions of us lesser beings,” he replied sarcastically as he shook his head, unable to believe what she had just told him.

“You have answered your question to me with a question that needs not answering should you seek the answer out,” the corners of Hel's lips twitched up in another faint smile – another boisterous laugh by her standards – and moved her hand so that it was sitting directly on top of the one he had placed on the balcony. The warming spell flared hotly, compensating for the cool-death touch of her skin against his own, but Loki immediately understood the gesture. He understood it not only because it was very deliberate, but also because it was exactly like the mirror reflection of what her sister had done during the days of the coterie – forcing him to counter _her_ hot touch with a cooling spell. It had been a signal used back then...

He knew what she was offering – that even for that one moment where she claimed to be indifferent to everything, that on some level, she understood what had just happened; the shock, pain, grief, the overwhelming sense of everything pressing down upon him – and knew what she was offering. It was not human, nor was it animal, just a moment of her attempt to perhaps be a bit more like them, instead of what she was, Death's daughter. And while she had used the signal that her sister had used back in the days of the coterie, he could still hear the faint echo of his own words towards her “ _and jealousy does not become you, Lady Hel_.”

And though he knew he could have ruthlessly cut her to pieces by shoving her attempt to be like Sigyn into her face; at the same time he also knew that she had only done so because it was her _forte_ of magick. Mirror spells; whereas Death mirrored Life, Life mirrored Death and so forth. And a part of him marveled at the control, at the utter and total control she _had_. It was fascinating in a very primal way, but also reminded him greatly of who she was – Queen of Helheim. Queen of the Realm of the Dead. And she had just offered it, just like that. Anyone would have been a fool to not take what she offered without any strings attached.

Loki was no fool.

He pulled his hand from underneath hers, the burning touch of the spell disappearing as he deliberately ended the spellwork, “I will take that offer and return it for a favor.”

He saw the smile that had been at the corner of her lips turn into a small full one; she was very pleased that he had chosen not to take up her offer, to seemingly not debase himself in such an animal fashion of relying on comfort and succor in a moment of overwhelming grief and hurt. Then again, he also knew, like her mother, her whims were fickle and unpredictable. “The favor exchanged in the prisons was returned.”

“And this one for the the revocation of punishment for your actions in Jormungandr and Fenrir's rebellion,” he deliberately rolled Gungnir in his hand, emphasizing to her that he was the current undisputed King of Asgard. He had the ability to negate whatever Odin Allfather had handed down as her punishment two years ago.

“What is it you wish, my King?” she asked.

“There will be a time when I require assistance,” he said carefully, “you will know what to do then.”

She inclined her head once, “As you wish, my King.” However, instead, of taking a step back or drawing the shadows of Yggdrasil close to her to return to her realm, Loki suddenly found his mouth covered by hers. Before his instincts could re-activate the warming spell so that he would not _die_ by her touch, she suddenly stepped back, a more impish look on her face as she deliberately drew in the blue fiery lines of the shadows of Yggdrasil around her and disappeared.

Loki shivered as he saw that his hands had turned Jotun blue in the split second Hel had taken to kiss him. He knew that his body had also more than likely had reverted back to its Jotun form in base self preservation. The Jotun-blue was slowly fading, longer than when he had first picked up the Casket of Ancient Winters; if Hel's touch had lingered for even one more millisecond without any of his warming spells protecting him, he would have died.

He could not help but smile and shake his head; Hel had proven what his coterie had and always will be; a disparate group of magick users teetering on the edges of madness and near-death. And somehow, it comforted him, more than anything else she had offered.

* * *

The silence had stretched to the point where Jormungandr did not know how much time had passed since he had sat down in front of Sleipnir's makeshift cell in the Avengers Tower. The cell itself was not really a cell, more like a containment field that had been clearly designed for the green monster aptly named the Hulk, that Dr. Banner sometimes turned into whenever he was angry enough. He had learned that it was based off of the same containment room that Loki had stayed the first time he had boarded the Helicarrier – which was also a cell for the Hulk. Though the cell itself was part of the building, it had mechanical rotors and joints that clearly enabled it to push it outside where apparently boosters of sorts, similar to the man of iron's repulsors, would lift the containment up high and into space where then it would open up, exposing the occupant to the cold unforgiving vacuum of space.

Jormungandr did not tell the others that he was sorely tempted to push the button to enable it to happen to the man that sat in the cell. Instead, he kept his hands to himself and had been watching Sleipnir since Loki had ordered him placed in this cell.

_The Queen was dead in the attack and Jormungandr's first instinct was to find whomever had murdered the Queen and to slowly poison them to death. The Queen, for all of her haughty imperialistic facade, did not deserve such a death; even if she hid behind her husband, adopted the same warrior-mentality instead of championing for her fellow mages. She was the only one besides Loki, who had been somewhat kind to him, the first to care for him during the feast after his core had been ripped out of him. He could not help but stare at Loki whose knuckles had turned white at the news, gripping Gungnir in sheer furious anger._

_“Continue,” Loki's voice could have frozen the wastelands of Jotunheim ten times over without the power of the Casket of Ancient Winters. Jormungandr shivered involuntarily at how calm and collected the Prince, no, the King of Asgard sounded._

_“Heimdall has given his word that the Bifrost will be destroyed after we had arrived, milord,” even Sif was surprised and stuttered a little over her next words, “A-Asgard was burning when we had received our orders- Loki-”_

_Jormungandr felt the tell-tale weave of magicks that he knew to be uniquely Loki's whenever he opened a skein into the shadows of Yggdrasil and took a half-step forward before just as suddenly, the skein dissipated as Sif's words seemingly registered and he lowered his hand. He noticed that Loki's fingers still twitched as if he wanted to do it, but something held him back, something that troubled him greatly. Jormungandr had not spent the last two years in close proximity, re-learning what he had learned during the days of the coterie without picking up some knowledge of his Prince – his King's body language. It was what kept the coterie alive during a majority of their adventures, their ability to read each other and compensate for a variety of spells, battles, skirmishes, and even schemes across the realms._

_It had also been the coterie's downfall with Loki easily reading their plans and stopping them from committing regicide all in his name. Jormungandr pulled his thoughts away from what had happened back then, refusing to delve into the past and what had been. What had been done had been done; there was no changing the past._

_Instead, he saw his King focus his sharp angry gaze upon Sleipnir who stood, body bent a little as the chains that bound him together forced him to hunch forward. Jormungandr twitched and shuddered a little at the dead-eyed gazes of both the human-formed ravens of Huugin and Munnin as they held Sleipnir's chains. He did not like the judgmental look in them, shaming him each time he was within their vicinity. It was at least mitigated whenever they were in their raven forms, but in the rare times that he had seen them in their human forms for the last two years, he felt like he had not done_ enough. _Certainly it was not for their benefit or respect, but that he had not done_ enough _for Loki. And they judged him, reported everything back to the Allfather and then some._

_He shied away from their look and focused instead on Sleipnir bound by chains that exuded tightly bound weaves ans skeins, clearly suppressing all magick. The older man was bleeding from a gash on his forehead, blood dripping down his face. His tunics looked like they had been slashed in places and burnt on others, a clear sign that someone, more than one, had fought him. Though his wrists had manacles on them, the majority of the suppressant weaves coming from there, his fingers were liberally covered in dried blood. A muzzle covered his mouth, but Jormungandr could see the defiance in his chipped ice blue eyes._

_It was then that he noticed how tight the chains around Sleipnir were pulled; he had mistaken the initial tightness of the ravens' grips on the chains as a warning to the former mage to not do anything, but a second glance told him another story. The ravens were furiously angry, their dead-eye gaze hiding how they really felt having spent so much time in their raven forms that they had all but forgotten how to show emotion in their human ones. Jormungandr realized that they were not angry with what had happened on Asgard, but their anger was directed_ at _Sleipnir._

_And in that instance, he realized that Sleipnir was not only the traitor who had brought down Asgard's vaunted defenses, but that it was he who had killed Frigga Allmother. Sleipnir had killed the Queen. Whether the ravens were channeling the anger of the Allfather per their status as the familiars of Odin, or whether they were angry of their own, it was telling and it seemed Loki had come to the same conclusion as he moved past Sif and stood before Sleipnir, thumping the end of Gungnir onto the ground like a ominous gong._

_Jormungandr drew in a soft, sharp breath. Loki could easily exact his revenge here and now on Sleipnir, could kill him with Gungnir and no one would protest. In fact, he suspected that Sif, Huugin, and Munnin would probably cheer if Loki just plain executed Sleipnir – especially if he did it in his capacity as King._

_That could not happen._

_“...Loki,” he opened his mouth, wanting nothing more than to see the traitor dead himself, but knowing that if Sleipnir was killed, then all hope for Loki would be lost. That he would end up with_ nothing _and that was something Jormungandr never wanted for him. Because as much as he detested everything else, Jormungandr knew the very reason why the coterie had broken so long ago – why Loki had betrayed them._

_It was the same reason why he had at first gone along with his brother Fenrir's plans, only to realize what he truly wanted for himself; and even then, still went along with Fenrir's plans out of some misguided sense of loyalty before he finally understood what drove Loki to do what he did._

_“Stark,” perhaps Loki had come to the same conclusion, or perhaps he knew his King's mind was always deviously thinking in ways he could not even begin to comprehend, but Jormungandr closed his mouth at his words. He did not need to say anything now...the dangerous moment had passed._

_“Y-Yeah?” Tony Stark sounded stunned and Jormungandr glanced at him to see some wary, yet angry in the man of iron's gaze. He suspected the anger was not directed at Loki as it had been, but rather directed at what had happened._

_“You have holding cells,” Loki's voice was still eerily calm, making it seem like a statement instead of a question, but Stark nodded._

_“Uh, yeah...got one with the guy's name on it...” he sounded a bit faint from shock, but the corners of his lips twitched in an apparent effort to suppress what looked like the beginnings of a mirthless smile._

_Loki directed an unspoken look at the ravens who bowed their heads once before stepping forward, ready to follow Stark to whatever cell he had to place Sleipnir in-_

“Surely your _master_ has summoned you- Oh wait, no,” Sleipnir's soft raspy voice broke Jormungandr out of his thoughts as he saw the older man lean forward from where he sat on the floor, “no summoning, no tugs, nothing to bind you to him and his will.”

The chains that the ravens had been holding onto had been latched to opposite ends of the wall. There was the faint thrum of magick from where they had been seemingly fused into the wall. He knew none of the Avengers had any magick, the closest was probably the man of iron, the arm and lingering faint spellwork upon the metal-armed man, and the shield the Captain wielded. That left the ravens and he wondered if one of them was a former mage before becoming Odin's familiar. The muzzle that had been over Sleipnir's mouth had only prevented him from speaking in case Loki had wanted to render judgment without any interruption from Sleipnir and had thus been removed.

“Is he cruel enough to let you eventually go mad?” Sleipnir asked quietly, “to let you rot away, pine away, beg until he sustains you with his core? Surely you have done _enough_ for him to render at least a measure, a sliver, a piece upon which you could call your own?” The red-haired mage shot him a sharp smile, “Or perhaps he wishes to use you, discard you in a manner that is of amusement to him-”

“Is that what made you betray Asgard?” Jormungandr interrupted, blinking once as he stared at the other man. “That you blame Baldr for all of this-”

“And can you say the same for your _brother_ Fenrir? Of his betrayal of Asgard? Of his and _your_ betrayal of your vaunted Prince?” Sleipnir growled out, tugging on his chains a little bit as if he wanted to steeple his hands together.

“I was always loyal to Loki,” he said and saw the other man scoff in disbelief, “never to Fenrir no matter our shared blood.”

Sleipnir laughed lightly and bitterly as he sat back, “It is amusing that you say such words, Jormungandr, knowing full well what we were meant to do, what _he_ wanted us to do.”

“ _He_ never said and in fact never even cared. I only knew because of Fenrir and because of the pieces and stories gathered. _He_ never cared for us,” Jormungandr countered, feeling a little angry at the flippant way Sleipnir had broached the subject. It also confirmed something that he had suspected ever since he had joined Loki's coterie. And as much as it threatened to shatter him, the knowledge so painful and agonizing that it hurt to even think about it, he knew that he could not stoop to such a level, to let it consume him. Sleipnir in front of him was proof of that, that he could not falter anymore, that he needed, _had to_ in a desperate way that man needed air to survive, that he knew his path. That he _picked_ his own path. No one chose it for him.

“The Mad Titan always cared more for his adopted 'daughters' than of his true-born sons. Assassins, all of them, useful and weapons in their own right,” Sleipnir scoffed in an off-hand manner before pinning him with another sharp, teeth-filled smile, “maybe we were also weapons, tools for him to also use in the long run. That our defining trait twisted, corrupted, broken...”

“Is that why you betrayed the Crown Prince? Even in his hour of madness in Thanos' thrall?” Jormungandr did not like what he was hearing, each word that emerged from Sleipnir's mouth hitting a little too close to home. “If you were so definitive about our...trait...as you claim, then why?!”

Sleipnir only stared back, his icy blue eyes calm and reflective as his sharp smile softened almost to one that could have been called wistful. “You are so very young, Jormungandr, so very naive. The youngest of all of us...” he said quietly, “look at Fenrir's actions. Look at what he did and tell me my own was the same.”

“Fenrir loved him,” Jormungandr shook his head, “I will not besmirch my brother-”

“And it was Fenrir's love and loyalty that was utterly twisted and corrupted because it was absolute. Because it was unconditional and in his mind, it was rejected and told that it was not worthy,” Sleipnir's soft smile turned sharp and bitter again, “I know of what happened on the Helicarrier, of the things that had happened. Because such loyalty cannot accept the conditional love of another, an intruder if you will. And because it cannot accept the fact that your vaunted _Prince_ chose the _brother_ he claimed to have hated over the lover, partner, and beloved. The family he had versus the family he could have had.”

“I do not love Loki like Fenrir had,” Jormungandr shook his head, “he is more my father and family than Fenrir ever was.” He narrowed his eyes, “And judging by what you have said, Loki was family more than you ever were in your apparent absence in my life, Sleipnir so you have no recourse in claiming such familial ties with _my brother and I_ . Is that what made you betray Asgard? Betray it twice over because of your so-called twisted loyalty to Baldr? To the madman who dealt with the unwanted _father_ you and I have hated since our birth?!”

“I wonder,” the red-haired mage stared at him, seemingly brushing his question to the side, head tilted to the side, “will you speak with such loyalty to Loki after you realize the truth of what I am saying to you.”

“I will never betray him-”

“I am sure not intentionally-”

“I have accepted his faults, his wishes, and his wants. I have accepted my punishment, my sins, and my actions. I have accepted that his first loyalty will always be to Thor and to himself and I will follow him to the ends of the Universe,” Jormungandr said heatedly, “and if it is a question of absolute loyalty, then yes, this is my absolute loyalty to Loki.”

Sleipnir made a humming noise as he watched him, “Grand words, heartfelt words, little serpent. Words I used to profess to my adoptive father, right up until I realized the madness that was Thanos had consumed him.”

Jormungandr drew in a sharp breath as he realized that Sleipnir had _known_ all along that Loki had a geas with Thanos. That using this knowledge, had enacted a plan buried under the initial layer that was to raze Asgard to the ground and burn everything that Odin Allfather stood for. He also realized that if Sleipnir knew about the geas, it was more than likely that Baldr also knew about it. Which meant like Hel releasing him and Fenrir from their prisons two years ago, this was an attempt to release Thanos from his prison. Sleipnir had cleverly laid his trap with honeyed words by telling an inch of truth in his stories, that many of them were probably true, but the falsehoods were laced within the words and jumbled so much that it was hard to pick apart what was true and what was false. Or perhaps they were all true from a certain point of view.

The auburn-red haired made smiled thinly, “There was no geas involved with the Crown Prince. Just little hints of truth, of falsehoods, and of betrayals. No scorned lovers, no slighted honors, just one simple word, and one simple truth.”

“What,” he did not like the glint in Sleipnir's eyes.

“Ragnarok.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The decision to kill Frigga has always been at the forefront of this story. Like the writers of Thor: The Dark World I was debating what would motivate Loki and as I was planning this, realized that even if Asgard was burning, there would not be sufficient motivation – at least for Loki in regards to this series. Frigga's death would push him towards that motivation, but unlike TDW, it wouldn't drive him. This is partially my own fault as a writer for not quite expanding on the relationship between Frigga and Loki like it was explored in the movie. But I also realized that I had explored it enough with other characters not Loki that they would end up driving Loki himself to do something. Though Frigga's death hits hard at Loki, it is other compounding factors that makes him do something about it and towards the plot overall – which is ultimately the end goal of any story – driving the plot forward.  
> I know that a lot of readers will be angry with me killing Frigga off, but I just wanted to let you know what goes on in an author's head as they plan and plot out a story like this.  
> In other news: I adore Hel like there's tomorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

Steve frowned as Sleipnir spoke the word 'Ragnarok' and noticed out of the corner of his eye Natasha and the others looking a bit confused. Only the two young men that had accompanied and held Sleipnir's chains did not react to his words. Instead, he watched as one of them turned to the other with a quick nod before just as suddenly a raven appeared out of nowhere, startling all of them before just as quickly it disappeared in a quiet poofing sound, leaving one of the young men standing there as if nothing had happened.

“What the...” Bruce murmured quietly as Steve peered forward, noticing the raven had suddenly appeared in the room next to Jormungandr. In less than a blink of an eye, the raven turned back into one of the young men.

“Huugin,” Jormungandr greeted almost warily and Steve darted a quick look at the other young man standing in the room with the rest of the Avengers.

“...Munnin...?” he tested out hesitantly and saw the young man turn to look at him, giving him a solemn nod.

“You know of us,” he had a narrow angular, but willowy face that belied his sharp eyes and jutting chin. His ears seemed just a little too large for his head, but that was a trait that was shared by Huugin who had a more rounded heart-shaped face with the same sharp eyes. It was clear the two were probably brothers.

“Just from...the stories that were written about you and, uh, your brother...?” he flicked another quick look at the apparent silent staring contest that had fallen between Jormungandr and Huugin. Looking back at Muunin, he saw the young man nod once, staring at him with the same sharp look. It was almost unnatural, as if he did not quite remember to blink or even move his head. And when he did, it was tilted to the side, almost avian-like. Another aspect of seemingly unnaturalness of Muunin and even Huugin was that their tunics, armor, whatever they wore, were inky jet black and had a pattern that looked almost like feathers.

“You know of Ragnarok,” Muunin did not voice it as a question and Steve nodded before gesturing with a hand.

“Again, based on the stories that were written, myths really,” he could tell that the sharp, dead-eyed gaze that was on him was not so much a demand for answers, but just an evaluating look. He supposed that it unnerved others, but somehow, it did not unnerve him. Then again, he supposed that based on the myths, maybe it was Odin looking through his ravens, seeing everything with the so-called All-Seeing Eye he had been given. Maybe it was true, maybe it was not, but it seemed that the ravens did hold something of an authority of Odin if there were here. He could not tell from Loki's reaction to their arrival, but the fact that the two were here must have some significance. After all, he had not even seen them in the last two times Loki had come, nor had they accompanied Thor during the times he was here.

“Usually talking about the end of the Norse myths, about the death of all of the Norse Gods like Odin, Thor, Heimdall and the others. There are a couple of versions of Ragnarok, but basically it started out with the death of Baldr by Loki's hands and then him teaming up with someone named Sutur to unleash a host of Jotuns on Asgard itself. Everyone dies, goes to Valhalla, only to be reborn in some manner,” he continued, giving an abbreviated version of what he had read in his childhood.

The New York Public Library had been one of the places he and Bucky had spent a lot of time at during the stifling summers. The two of them went when he was able to take the subway and trolleys in the summer heat without his asthma giving him trouble. Otherwise, he remembered Bucky coming home with armfuls of books for him during the times he was stuck in bed sick and bored out of his mind.

“Norse myths are always so pleasant,” he heard Tony mutter none too quietly near him.

“Is that what Strucker, or whomever he really is talking about? What happened on Asgard?” Steve asked the younger-looking man. He was pretty sure Muunin and Huugin were far older than he was. It was still less than twelve hours since Lady Sif, the ravens, and Sleipnir had arrived from an apparent war-torn Asgard and Steve still could not quite process the shock of finding out what had happened to the place. Lady Sif was currently recovering in Bruce's medical labs; the fact that she was clearly bleeding and barely standing up while she gave Loki Odin's sceptre and the apparent kingship of Asgard not lost on any of them.

“The end of an era,” Muunin replied in an almost monotone; as if he had forgotten how to properly speak, “the end of Asgard and its ruling house. A cursed epithet given to the House of Bor and Odin for their actions.” The human-formed raven gestured with a chin towards the red-headed man that Steve and the others had seen as Baron von Strucker, “Sleipnir knew of it. All members of the Crown Prince's coterie knew of Ragnarok. To prevent Asgard's enemies from destroying all that was built. To watch, guard, and stop those who would see the House of Bor fall.”

“Does Loki know?” Bruce asked quietly and Steve glanced at him to see him rub the bottom of his lip, staring down at the still-on-going silent staring contest held by Jormungandr and Huugin. Steve briefly wondered if they were engaging in some kind of silent conversation no one could hear. Of everything he had seen so far, he would not put it past the two to have the ability to talk to each other in their minds – so like the science fiction movies Tony kept plying him with from time to time.

“He did not believe,” Muunin answered, giving Bruce a dead-eyed look before seemingly staring at something beyond him, “he realizes the folly of his thoughts now and shadows himself to protect the truth.”

“So Strucker, er-Sleipnir-” he shot a questioning look at Muunin and thought he received the barest nod of confirmation, but wasn't too sure, “Sleipnir, is Asgardian. I, uh,guess, what happened? We knew him as an agent of Karpov-uh, as an agent of Baldr, but Thor said that he wasn't human, that he sensed magick within him before he escaped from our custody.”

“Deceit, betrayal, fire, death,” for a second, Steve thought he saw the glimmer of something in Muunin's eyes, but just as quickly it disappeared, replaced by a flat avian-like look. A part of him realized that the longer Muunin – and by extension Huugin – stayed in their human forms, the more they had human-like expressions. Just what were they, to be able to shift into raven and human forms? The myths he read said that they were Odin's eyes and always ravens, but it seemed like the two could easily transform back and forth between animal forms – much like he had seen Jormungandr and Fenrir do. Thor hinted that it was very advance technology that looked like magic in their eyes, but Steve wondered if some of it really _was_ magic.

“You have history with him, with Sleipnir and by extension, with Karpov,” surprisingly it was Natasha who spoke up, breaking the silence that filled the room. Everyone turned to look at her and Steve saw her staring at the younger man with a calculating look.

“Spider,” Muunin said in a tone that Steve did not quite like, but Natasha lifted a hand to stop anyone from doing anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clint relax his guard, having almost drawn his bow and arrow in her defense. She gave the younger man a sharp smile.

“Can't eat me, little raven,” she replied and to everyone's surprise, Muunin shot back the same sharp grin. Something in the younger-looking man's posture relaxed and Steve had a feeling that Natasha had passed a test of sorts. He hoped that whatever unseen test she had undergone applied to all of them. He was hoping for answers instead of riddles. But these were Odin's ravens, and if the myths said anything about them, they either spoke in riddles when questioned, or only told their words to Odin himself. Currently, they were being very cryptic.

“Baldr wished what every child of Asgard wished; to not live in the shade of the glory of his brothers,” Muunin had a disquieted look on his avian-like face, “and so he rose up, was struck down, and has risen once more.”

Steve pursed his lips together as he played Muunin's statement over in his mind once more. There was something about what he said- He blinked as it hit him. “Thanos,” he said quietly, bringing everyone's gaze on him, but most of all, Muunin's gaze as it narrowed into an almost calculating look that could have been on Odin's face. “It's Thanos that's helping-no...” he replayed the words in his head, “Thanos helped him before. When you said he 'rose up' and was struck down. He had Thanos' help then and his help now...”

He trailed off as he realized something else; the echo of a long forgotten conversation on the star-struck beauty of the Rainbow Bridge on Asgard. He and the other Avengers had been frozen by some kind of spell or power from Thanos himself, unable to move, to defend, to do anything but watch the soul-trembling conversation that had reverberated between Odin and Thanos. It felt like being frozen in the ice, unable to move, except without his senses dulling by the slow hypothermia he had been feeling then. He had seen Loki struggle through the horrific torture Thanos had inflicted upon him in between his capture on the Helicarrier to when they saw him on Asgard back then, but one thing was clear – Thanos wanted them to hear the words of triumph as he crowed over Odin's supposed defeat and futility in keeping the Infinity Gauntlet from him.

It was also where he had first heard the name Baldr spoken.

“The Bifrost,” he said, glancing at the others, “when Loki was trying to steal the Infinity Gauntlet from the vaults!”

“I remember,” Coulson nodded as he joined in, “Thanos was saying something about some other Loki who killed Baldr before him, about older brothers... Baldr was the youngest in the House of Bor, wasn't he? Odin his older brother, and this Loki's namesake, the eldest which would make him the Crown Prince...”

“So this is revenge,” Tony piped up, “plain and simple revenge.” Steve shot a quick look at Tony to see him unconsciously flexing a hand. They had all learned that Tony had survived Karpov's attempt to burn him out of the Iron Man armor using Extremis soldiers by the fact that he had a variation of Extremis inside himself. Sometime during the process after which he had the shrapnel removed from his chest, he had experimented and injected himself with a variation of Extremis to prevent someone from doing what Killian Aldrich had done to Colonel Rhodes and the Iron Patriot armor.

“Seems pretty messy for revenge,” Clint said quietly, having stayed silent for most of the conversation, “but it's also makes sense since it's Karpov's way of doing things since he got the Chitauri sceptre.”

“How do you figure?” Coulson asked, glancing at Clint who shrugged.

“Well, based on its history, each person that came in contact with it, whether or not they've been hit with it or holding it, got a bit crazy and...” he gestured with an absent hand into the air and the others nodded in agreement. Steve had to agree with Clint's assessment. “It's second hand, but some of the others at the base told me that Karpov was all about cloak and dagger-like, making sure Strucker and his experiments weren't found by whatever was left of SHIELD or by the Avengers. When he got the sceptre, people told me he got a little more...active. More missions, more visibility and things that they normally would have only done in the the back room and the like.”

Karpov, Baldr, whatever his name was, had been under SHIELD and more than likely HYDRA's radar – if Alexander Pierce's words were any indication – until he more than likely received the Chitauri sceptre after the Battle of New York. He knew that he could argue the case that Baldr was only waiting for the fall of SHIELD and rise of HYDRA to come out of the shadows, so to speak, but even then, based on the limited information they had regarding the older man, it made no sense for him to be this outlandish with his plans unless something else was influencing him.

It was clear that the sceptre had made Loki reckless – though again, Steve thought that Loki's geas with Thanos was the more likely cause – but it had also forced Clint to attack his friends. Maybe the same could have been said for Fenrir attacking Loki on the Helicarrier; apparently so hellbent on revenge that he had forgotten his mission – or at least that was what Fury and Coulson had speculated in their debrief after they returned from negotiations. When Baldr had touched the sceptre to him, Steve knew that he had attacked his friends with an uncharacteristic fierceness. But he had also seen glimpses into Baldr's mind and it was where he had gleaned Thanos from.

“You have glimpsed Baldr's plans,” Muunin suddenly turned his head towards him, his gaze sharp and avian-like. He only had half a mind to turn his body so that his head did not look quite unnatural with his body facing a different direction.

“The sceptre,” Steve still did not like to talk about what had happened while he had been under Baldr's influence. It had felt like something had pressed on him, trying to crush his soul and will into infinitesimal pieces, like he was nothing but dust. He had fought back hard and that was when he had glimpsed into Baldr's plans. He knew that he could talk to Clint about it, having gone through nearly the same thing – except with Loki holding the sceptre – but also knew that Clint was a very private person.

But it seemed his short answer must have elicited something in the human-formed raven as something in Muunin's eyes softened a little. He must have understood that he had briefly fallen under the control of Baldr somehow. “'Tis the strongest will to have survived,” the raven said quietly, “for such an ancient knowledge would have ground others into nothing.”

Steve did not know if the implication that he should have died when briefly under Baldr's control was comforting or not. What he did understand was that the sceptre's power was influenced by whomever wielded it – those who lived longer apparently amplified its inherent power versus those who had not lived as long. It made sense, but Steve could not put all of his stock into that theory – he had witnessed its use only twice, once with Baldr and once with Loki; and both were more than one-thousand years old. But if what Sleipnir had said while talking with Jormungandr about Baldr, it set a precedence for the theory to exist.

And certainly explained how someone like Baldr could control Thor so easily.

Before any of that, he would not have expected Thor to be mind controlled, having the mental fortitude of over a thousand years to be able to resist things like that. He did not mean to think that he and his fellow human-Avengers were weak-minded, but then again, he really did not know too much about the properties of the Chitauri sceptre except for the two examples he had seen its use.

“So Baldr's involved with Thanos, or was involved in the past and now is involved with him again,” Steve had almost forgotten that Sam was with them, having stayed so silent throughout everything.

He glanced at his friend to see him with a pensive look on his face. “I think it might be safe to assume that one of his goals is to see Asgard burn, but what does he get out of it? The obvious answer is when he grabbed Thor, it was to distract us and more than likely distract Loki as far as I can tell. But when he talked to Tony and I, I definitely got the feeling that he's one of those with plans within plans. He certainly knew more than he was letting on, mentioning things like vaults and geas. There's got to be more than just controlling Thor in all of this. I mean, Loki's here, but he's not saying much except to say that he's looking for Baldr.”

“Baldr? Megalomaniac,” Tony supplied with a sharp edge to his tone, “pretty much gloating and off his rocker. Aldrich Killian and the Mandarin wasn't as bad as Karp-er, Baldr. And how the hell is Thanos being in the Tesseract- wait, kid, he's still in that thing, right? Not all doom and gloom and coming for us, or rather, coming for Loki – not that I care – because I really don't want him wrecking the Tower or New York.”

“Odin Allfather and the Warriors Three were last seen defending the Vaults,” Muunin said flatly and Steve was sure that his expression was partially due to Tony calling the raven a 'kid' along with the fact that he more than likely and been ordered to come to Earth with Lady Sif and Sleipnir. So far the myths were proving true that the ravens were utterly loyal to Odin. It seemed that they refused to believe that the Allfather would have fallen in battle; refused to even consider it and anything implied after the fact.

“The fact that it's been several hours since they've arrived and nothing's happened tells me that I think they're still defending the Vaults, Stark,” Coulson cautioned, but even Steve heard the slight reproach in his voice. The Director was right in his unspoken mention of not causing a panic.

At the same time, they also knew now that there was a chance with Asgard razed, Thanos might be freed. Steve did not know how the Tesseract worked, only the fact that someone either using a machine with iridium in it to force a portal opening could do it, or just by touch like the Red Skull did on the _Valkyrie_ . When Odin had activated the Tesseract, it had sucked Thanos _in_ like a black hole, unlike the other times when beams of screaming starlight had shot _out_ of it, creating a wormhole portal of sorts. He could only hope that maybe Odin was the only one who knew how to activate the Tesseract as a prison and thus Thanos would not be released even if Asgard had completely fallen.

“So, how is Thanos stuck in the Tesseract supposed to help Baldr? I mean, Steve, you're saying that Thanos helped him in the past, but is also helping him now?” Tony asked again, crossing his arms across his chest.

Muunin only blinked at them before turning to look down to where Huugin was with Jormungandr who now had a petulant look on his face. Something must have happened as it looked like the dark-haired man was sitting sullenly in his chair in front of Sleipnir. Sleipnir himself had closed his eyes, seemingly asleep, but Steve had a feeling that was not the case. He could see the chains that still bound him flash occasionally and hoped that it was doing something to suppress the magic he had in him so that he would not escape like he had back in London.

Huugin looked up as if silently summoned, his head tilted in an avian manner before blinking once at them and Muunin turned back to them. There had to be some kind of silent signal, or even the science fiction concept he had only recently learned called telepathy. Sam had made him watch what he called a classic 90's science fiction show that had a side plot of humans who were called telepaths and talked to each other in their heads instead of out loud.

But before he could do anything else, Steve found the faces of his friends and Muunin, disappearing into a starry field of infinite blackness and galaxies. Just before his vision was totally consumed by what he saw, he saw Muunin's already dark eyes take on a deeper hue.

“Before Creation itself, there were six singularities,” Muunin intoned. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips with a quiet whisper and he heard the shuffle of others around him, but somehow did not feel a panic at not seeing them.

“Whoa...” Sam breathed in wonderment behind him.

“Then the universe exploded into existence and the remnants of these were forged into concentrated ingots, the Infinity Stones, or Gems. These Stones it seems, could only be brandished by beings of extraordinary strength,” the raven continued in a hushed monotone.

Steve saw the flow and ebb of power before him, how they coalesced and formed into a variety of shapes and sizes. Some of the 'stones' were solid, while others were liquid and infinite – almost as if alive. He saw the Tesseract in all of its blue-cubed glory, the power pulsating inside it as it seemingly rotated amongst six others. He wanted to reach out and touch one, but the whisper that this was only an illusion stayed his hand. The whisper sounded an awful lot like a raven cawing in laughter.

“Observe,” Muunin said and the six ingots that were turned into stone-like gems were washed away by the image of a very powerful-looking being that towered over a planet, holding a sceptre of sorts that glowed purple. _The Power Gem..._ the same cawing laughter whispered.

“These carriers can use the stones to mow down civilizations like wheat in a field,” Muunin continued as the being slammed the butt end of the sceptre onto the ground. It sent a wave of terrible destruction that instantly vaporized fleeing beings, spreading across the planet in the matter of seconds. Steve swallowed hard against the sudden lump that formed in his throat at the sheer and sudden destruction of a planet long ago that had been so full of life.

“Once, for a moment, a group was able to share the energy amongst themselves, but even they were quickly destroyed by it.”

Steve saw the same gem being used by a group of hooded aliens who seemingly let the power flow through them very much like it had in the sceptre. They writhed and bowed, trying to contain the pain, but suddenly all exploded into flakes and pieces. Each one of their mouths were opened in a silent scream of horror and pain. He pressed his lips together and tried to turn away from their deaths, but found that he could not, not with the illusion over his eyes.

The horrific image dissipated and was replaced by Thanos' icy blue eyes and leering smile as he held what looked like a small yellow jewel in between his meaty fingers. He suddenly ran his other hand over it and Steve saw the familiar blue-encasement that defined the Chitauri sceptre cover the gem. So that was where the Chitauri sceptre's power came from. _The Mind Gem_...the laughing raven whispered in his mind.

At the same time, he saw the familiar form a Jotun, dressed in more elaborate furs and simple bone-necklaces create a small ornate box, plucking wisps of something from two hands in either direction. One was definitely the cover-encrusted Mind Gem in Thanos' purple hands, but the other was a seemingly weathered hand that held the familiar blue cuboid that was the Tesseract.

 _The Casket of Ancient Winters_...the raven said with a cackling whisper in his mind and Steve was suddenly reminded of the bone-chilling icy interior of the Helicarrier right after Thanos had attacked and captured Loki. He was also suddenly reminded of Loki's fight with Fenrir, how the two battled with their staves. Loki's stave had fired off icy blasts of something, but was it truly the Casket of Ancient Winters? A seemingly hybrid weapon that was both the Mind Gem and the Tesseract?

 _The Space Gem_ ...the raven whispered before the hand holding the blue cuboid was revealed to be a middle-aged man who looked eerily like Odin, but with a different helmet. It had horns, but they were curled around his ears, giving him a ram-like appearance. _Bor Allfather..._ the raven whispered quietly, almost regretfully when just as suddenly something red lashed out at Bor. Steve watched, fascinated at the sudden flurry of movement from Bor as the blood-red-black tendrils attacked with a ferocity of something alive that did not want to be disturbed.

A sneering pale face with striking blue eyes, elaborately braided white hair and elfin ears roared, guttural and angry. He flung his hand out once more and jagged bolts of red-black shards flew towards Bor Allfather once again. The Tesseract flared a luminous blue, deflecting the attack before pulsing once, sending washes of starlight across the area.

Steve's field of vision suddenly turned into a deathly air as thousands upon thousands of others who looked similar to the white-haired man fell down, some dying from sudden spurting wounds, others clawing at their throats. At the same time, he turned and saw numerous Asgardians, all dressed in their golden-burnished armor, along with what looked like their allies, the Jotuns in their furs, fall. Some were dying from wounds that suddenly appeared while others seemingly were torn to pieces by the jagged shards of black and red.

It was a horrific battle that took place, between the elfin-like creatures – _the Dark Elves_ – whispered the raven; and to his surprise, magic, thrown all about in all of its glory, much like the glimpses of what he had seen on the Helicarrier when Loki fought Fenrir. The spellwork was coming from both Dark Elves, Jotuns, and the Asgardians themselves. Swords, pikes, halberds, and all sorts of weaponry, projectile and not, along with shielding were used, but Steve had never seen _spellwork_ used, even on the Rainbow Bridge when they fought Thanos three years ago. It looked eerily like when he and the Commandos fought HYDRA back in World War II.

And speaking of Thanos, Steve saw him standing in the middle of it, laughing gleefully with the Mind Gem held in his hands. It pulsed with power and he somehow knew that he was enthralling people. What he could not tell was whether or not Thanos had coerced Bor Allfather and his forces to attack the Dark Elves and their leader, or was it the other way. Maybe it was a little bit of both, but Steve wasn't focused on that. Instead, he tried to reach out to see behind Thanos, but found that he was unable to move. Surprisingly, it didn't alarm him, but he focused on the hooded figure behind Thanos that seemingly clung onto his shadow.

The spells, bolts, and other types of weaponry created their own lights and for a moment, Steve thought he saw the face of an incredibly beautiful woman. To him it looked eerily like Peggy...

“... _Pepper?_ ” he thought he heard the echo of Tony's whisper and wondered if he was staring at the same thing he was. But he didn't get a chance to dwell on it as the image was shattered by the light of another bolt fired and he saw a skeletal smile on the hooded figure's face.

“Death followed,” Muunin's voice was soft and sad as the images continued to play out like a movie that Steve could not turn off or turn away from. He thought he saw the hooded figure in Thanos' shadow smile with razor sharp teeth, and could suddenly imagine that smile being infinitely pleased with how much blood was being shed. How much death hung in the cloudy toxic air.

“But it was not enough,” the raven continued quietly, “the Gems were infinite, power unmatched. They were the universe before the universe itself. They pre-dated the darkness and so, they could not be known except in Death.”

There was a visible shift in battle and Steve knew that some time had passed when Bor looked a little more wearier, more weathered. His helm dripped of blood, the horns that turned downward pooling and soaking in black ichor. Bor suddenly raised a hand, and Steve recognized the gauntlet he wore as the same one Loki had supposedly stole out of the Vaults three years ago to give to Thanos. On it was the flash of blue that he instantly recognized as the Space Gem, the Tesseract compressed even further. Bot suddenly pointed a finger and there was just a quick flash of blue before the Dark Elf leader writhed and twitched as something was seemingly pulled out of it.

The red-black mass seemingly spilled out of every pore of the Dark Elf as he silently screamed and tried to take the liquid-like mass back into himself. But he failed and Steve saw the red-black mass leap onto the Infinity Gauntlet where it turned into a single gemstone, sitting next to the Space Gem. As he looked up again, he saw that Thanos had stopped smiling and glared at Bor Allfather. Thanos clutched the encased Mind Gem in his hand, sending cracks and splinters of blue-hued power spreading across his skin like a complex maze of runes.

Steve realized that everyone he had seen in the battle had not fought with the Gems directly in their hands, but instead, had used some kind of protective barrier to channel such a power so that they would not tempt the fate and die like those before them who channeled the gems directly. It seemed that Bor Allfather had utilized a far more advance method of channeling with the Infinity Gauntlet and now possessed the power of two of the gems and was apparently looking to take the one in Thanos' hand. The Mad Titan drew back his arm and was about to attack-

“Death was fickle,” Muunin said as Bor was faster. He pointed two fingers at Thanos and sent him flying deep into the wash of black starlight. Steve surmised that this was more than likely the moment when Thanos had been supposedly trapped in the shadows of Yggdrasil.

Some more time seemed to past as Bor looked even older, the Gauntlet placed in the Vaults of Asgard, the Tesseract in its blue cuboid form placed in Tǿnsberg, Norway. The red-black liquid-like stone that was called the Reality Gem, was placed in a dusty monolith which closed shut without even a single whisper. It seemed Bor had scattered the Infinity Stones, his weathered face heavy with sadness and regret.

“Death did not stop. Many more died even with the Infinity Stones hidden,” Steve watched as apparent quick flashes of the death of Jotuns that apparently had magic, the magic-ruling body was overthrown. A civil war had started and a decadent culture had begun to decline as the ruling magic-wielding class fell to the far more numerous warrior and non-magic-inclined ones. They wielded the Casket of Ancient Winters, a weapon that was seemingly created from the essences of two Infinity Stones. He watched as Asgard cast their judgment upon them, and was greatly reminded of the hidden figure behind Thanos' shadow, seemingly laughing and enjoying the death and destruction wrought.

It only hit him then that he realized the shadowy figure behind Thanos was the actual, _literal_ , Death. He blinked his eyes furiously as the starlight of destruction faded from his vision, returning him to the room where they had been standing in. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the others seemingly shake or start and come to themselves before he looked at Muunin.

“That's Hel's mother behind Thanos, isn't it? Literal Death...” he asked, remembering what Thor had told them about Hel in relation to her part of Loki's former coterie.

“Wait, as in the actual grim reaper?!” Tony asked, “like scythe and all? Dude, I thought I saw, uh-Pep-uh....”

“It is said that she takes on the form of the ones we wish to see in the moment we enter her embrace, and in other literal words, die,” Muunin gave Tony an arched look and Steve saw him pale a little. He also felt unsettled by what the raven had said...he had thought he had seen Peggy before he saw Death's true skeletal form.

“Explains how the heck Hel was able to calm the Other Guy down in Trafalgar Square when she, Jormungandr, and Fenrir were on their whole revenge thing...” Bruce piped up, “huh...literally Death's daughter...”

“So what's this got to do with Ragnarok? And why?” Coulson asked.

For the first time since the raven spoke, Steve saw him look a little flustered and seemingly shrugged as if ruffling his feathers if he was in his animal form. “I...do not know...”

“Wait, what?” Tony exclaimed and Steve shot a quick look at him and got a defensive one in return.

“We dare not ask...we dare not fall into the madness that befell the Crown Prince so long ago,” Huugin suddenly spoke up down in the room and all of them peered out of the window. The human-formed raven stared at them with look that reminded him greatly of the Allfather. Steve realized that Odin did not know what Ragnarok entailed, only that it was, and it had affected him so much that he did not ask about it in any shape or form. Or even the more important 'why' as Coulson had asked.

“...I asked...and it was the fall of Asgard,” Sleipnir suddenly spoke up, making Jormungandr and Huugin jump slightly. His chains rattled gently as he shifted a little bit, “You showed them, did you not? You showed it to them and yet you did not deign to ask beyond what you had seen. The why. I asked...and I found out why my Crown Prince, my adoptive father, had fallen. The fall of Asgard, and the destruction of the House of Bor and now of Odin. The conquering of the galaxy upon the ashes of everything we have once held dear, all for the hand of Death.”

The red-haired man smiled, his icy blue eyes seemingly alight with an edge of madness, “Who once was conquerors now be the conquered. Ragnarok has begun...”

 ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muunin's explanation of the Infinity Gems in this universe's context is provided half by the Collector's speech from Guardians of the Galaxy and half based on what I've written in my universe. It's recommended you go play the track “Black Tears” from Guardians of the Galaxy to get the full chilling effect. Also, yay, all characters are on the sort of same page now! Some are still a bit ahead of others, but we're getting close.  
> In other notes, mental head cast of Muunin is Jamie Bell, and Huugin is Thomas Brodie-Sangster. And contrary to how the ravens act around Loki, they're pretty (or at least Muunin is) chatty around the Avengers. Hilariously enough, Huugin is more chatty around Asgardians and Muunin is the silent brooding one. Also, both their actions towards Jormungandr will be explained.


	15. Chapter 15

Jormungandr stared at the pile of healing stones he had yet to finish converting as requested by his master- no...requested by Loki. Loki was not his master, not yet, if he kept his hopes up. He absently rubbed his chest, feeling the long ache of the tattered remnants of his core. He would readily admit only to himself that he was a little frightened and frustrated that Loki had not broached the subject of taking him as a familiar. It wasn't so much as not broached, but rather danced around or outright ignored. It was improper of him to put forth the request, after all, he owed Loki his life and limb, and also he knew that Loki had deigned to somewhat defy Odin's orders and let him roam in his human form when not in his snake form.

The punishment that had been handed down had been pretty explicit and Jormungandr knew from long experience with the Court that if it had been anyone else, they would have been placed in the cells long ago. But Loki was the only one who could flagrantly defy Odin's orders and get away with it. He was in no position to ask his Prince for favors, and common etiquette, especially in regards to becoming a familiar, was even more taboo than anything else. It was asked as a sign of trust, as sign of faith, a binding agreement that literally bound master and familiar together. It was also rarely offered to anyone, and reserved as the highest honor of any branch of magick.

He knew why the ravens Huugin and Muunin stared at him with distaste, with their sharp gazes and knowing looks. He knew why Slepinir taunted him so. He knew why Eir had asked him the same question over and over again each time he was in the Healing Halls. He knew why Heimdall had never asked the question, but also had stared at him from time to time. He knew why the Allfather readily ignored him each time he was nearby, whether by Loki's command or by his form. He knew and while it would have driven others to madness and frustration, Jormungandr resolutely held himself against such base instincts. He would not lose control like his brothers had and give himself to the madness he feared.

He had long grew up with the shadowed stories of what the sons of Thanos were, how each succumbed to madness in the end, how each had devoted so much of themselves to a cause, to a person, to something that it drove them completely insane. Jormungandr resolutely held himself in check after everything that had happened. He had not believed the stories told to him by his mother while he had grown up in her coils; had not believed it when he was released to the universe to find his own way, had not believed it after meeting Fenrir by happenstance. He had not believed after the coterie, after his imprisonment, nor after his freedom by Hel's hand. But he had started to believe when Fenrir went off the planned path, his eyes bright with a feverish desire for revenge, for Loki to suffer, for the love that hurt so much to stop. He continued to believe after Loki had skewered his brother, killed him and sent him to Helheim. And now, he truly believed after his questioning of Sleipnir.

And Jormungandr was afraid.

Not for himself, but for Loki. Because even if he professed his undying loyalty to him, even if he was punished for it, he understood the reason why. He understood why he did it, why must he do it, and why in his heart he would never not do it. Because his words were true when he told Sleipnir and that was what he was afraid of – the truth of his words would become poison. Sleipnir had struck a deep barb in him when he said that his avoidance of the matter would only serve to prove his point in the end. But Jormungandr refused to believe it – could not, _would not_ believe it. Because it would _hurt_ and it was something that he did not want to prove true – that as one of Thanos' sons, he devotion and loyalty to Loki would end up betraying him in the long run. Not to Thanos – he certainly held no allegiance or drop of loyalty to the alien that fathered him – but he would betray Loki like Fenrir had. Like Sleipnir had in the long run, after claiming not to have betrayed the Crown Prince.

He knew that if he was bound as a familiar, it would ease some of his worries, his fate tied directly to that of his master. The loyalty would never be questioned because the binding process worked with similar threads of magick that was akin to a geas.

He could see now that Sleipnir's will had been utterly and completely broken by first the geas contract Baldr must have extracted from him before binding him to him as a familiar. Any previous loyalty to the Crown Prince must have been slowly eroded or shattered over the many millenia they had been alive. And it had driven someone like Sleipnir, a son of Thanos, completely mad. Because Sleipnir was correct in one thing. All sons of Thanos had one special skill, one special quality that made them very dangerous – they were absolutely loyal. Once loyalty was gained, there was no way to lose it – fanatical, devoted, even obsessed and in love, they were what Thanos could never have; what he had to extract from his 'daughters' in the very sense by replacing them with cybernetics and pain. Gamora and Nebula were the best examples Jormungandr knew of – assassins that Thanos had taken in as his daughters after slaughtering their families and people. What he tried to command from those who followed him, but always got dissatisfied in the long run and eventually rebelled against them.

The irony that Thanos' true-born sons would never show him the same devoted loyalty that was in their natures was no lost on Jormungandr. In fact, it only served to kindle the long fermenting hatred he had for Thanos for even being related to him by blood. He had no doubts Sleipnir and Fenrir, along with other sons he did not know about out amongst the cosmos, felt the same, but each had been broken because of that special skill, that special talent for being absolutely loyal. Fenrir was now dead by Loki's hand, Sleipnir had broken under Baldr's. And he...Jormungandr-

“Stark has an actual snake in this bottle of-” a rather over-exaggerated sniffing sound echoed loudly in the silent common area broke Jormungandr out of his thoughts.

He turned to see Hel's light pink curls bounce against the reflective moonlight that was streaming into the room as she stood up, clutching the neck of a bottle that indeed had a dead serpent inside it. Its mouth was open in defiance and glistening fangs protruded from the fermenting body.

“It smells quite lovely,” Hel set the bottle down on the granite counter top with a quiet thunk and put two glasses down next to it.

“Then it smells of decay and rotten flesh,” Jormungandr blinked once and watched as Hel poured a single finger worth in each of the glass. He watched as the dead snake slid a bit towards the neck, getting stuck with the rest of its sinewy body clogging up the alcohol before it was righted once more and it unceremoniously splashed and settled at the bottom of the bottle again. He knew that Hel had deliberately did it to unsettle him.

“I am not that,” he arched an eyebrow at her as she looked at him with her usual neutral look. He thought he caught the faint smile on the corners of her lips, but it was gone before he could make anything of it. He was never good at reading Hel. Loki was much better at it, but then again, Loki was the only one except for Sigyn to keep up a stream of conversation that no one else could make sense of. Jormungandr had thought the three of them touched in the head, but Fenrir had defended Loki and said he was not touched in the head and Jormungandr had believed him.

She swept both glasses up with her dainty, almost spindly, skeletal fingers and walked over to him. Each movement of her dress sent faint howls of the damned across the room, and Jormungandr watched the almost frightened mirages of ghosts scatter and coast away with each 'howl.' He wondered why Hel was here, serving him a drink no less, and what was doing defying Odin's mandate and punishment. He knew that it was because of his parentage that he was able to see certain elements of magick that no other could see, but he could clearly see her form shadowed by a spell. When she had been present at the sentencing two years previous, there were barely any threads of spellwork around her. The air of death radiated around her during that time, and it had chilled him to the bone to be so near her. It was a very discomforting experience to say the least.

“The Prince revoked Odin's command,” Hel said in a very chirpy voice that was unlike the many times he had seen her in front of others.

But then again, this was the Hel that Jormungandr knew – playful, always teasing him, but always so kind to him too. It was a different kindness than Loki's, but it seemingly filled a void that Jormungandr had never known in the creature that birthed him. He also knew that she _never_ showed this side to anyone else, not even to Loki as far as he knew. He also had never asked why, just treasured her thoughtfulness and friendship as much as possible. It was why he had reluctantly agreed to Fenrir's plan, because Hel had freed him from his initial imprisonment, had restored his ability to shift in and out of his serpentine form. Because she had done all of that without even asking for anything in return that he had followed her plan to the letter and incorporated Fenrir's into it during their initial scheme two years previous.

“You mean, the King,” he corrected her as she set the glass down next to his pile of healing stones and flounced down on a couch near him. The dress burst out with the howls of the damned so loud that Jormungandr winced a little at the noise. Surely it would have alerted the ravens, and even Loki to Hel's presence. Maybe even the man of iron for all of his magick-tech at his disposal.

“The Prince,” Hel continued stubbornly and he shrugged. He would leave her be to whatever she wished to call someone. “Odin Allfather is still alive.”

“Though deprived of Gungnir,” he added and the corner of her lips twitched up in a knowing smile.

“Deprived of Gungnir,” she agreed with a sharp smile that he could not determine was either kind or unkind, “deprived of his dearly beloved, deprived of his sons, deprived of everything he held dear and soon to be deprived of his conquest.”

“Frigga need not have died-”

“That is something she should have considered when Sleipnir betrayed her,” the sharp smile seemed more permanently fixed on her face and Jormungandr only gave her an arched look before glancing down at the pile of healing stones in front of him. “I disliked her. Freya should have been Queen.”

“That is very childish of you,” he glanced back up at her and saw her take a small sip of the drink she had poured. He knew back from the days of the coterie, Hel needed no form of nourishment, but had mimicked the others as to not draw attention to herself. Then again, Hel was unpredictable in respects that there were times she drew attention for her own reasons and times when she pretended she was much like them.

She only shrugged, but gave no further explanation as she swirled the drink in the bottom of the glass, “Your cousin tastes like ash.”

“Everything tastes like ash to you,” he countered, “and how do you know what ash tastes like? Ash could taste like the sweetest nectar ever or the bitterest poison of death.”

Her sharp smile softened a little as she nodded approvingly at him before it became sharp once more. “You would know poisons.”

“I would, but this is not,” he gestured down to the pile of healing stones and rubbed his chest absently again. “This is Loki's wish.”

“And your wish?”

He glanced up to see her sharp smile directed at him and thought he caught the touch of something unkind in them. “Is of no consequence-”

“As the mortals are wont to say, 'bullshit',” she cut him off, “you will die, Jormungandr.”

He closed his eyes against her harsh words and rubbed his chest again, “I will go mad, I will die.”

“You say the words, but you truly have not accepted it as Fenrir had in his last moments,” Hel absently dipped a finger into the glass and rubbed it around the rim, “it was...glorious...so...intoxicating and delicious... I see why mother adores it so and why she had chosen him.”

“But not you?” he sensed that there was something false within that statement.

“Perhaps not,” she agreed with the slight tilt of her head as she smoothed out an absent wrinkle in her dress, “but tis why we both sought him out, did we not?”

“We have the same goals?”

“We did when the coterie was formed,” she looked at him, her eyes unblinking behind her glasses. A small faint pink ringlet fell across her face at her head's movement, but she did nothing to brush it away.

“Your first one or second?” he asked. He had been surprised, like Loki, to find out that Hel was part of Odin Allfather's coterie, that she had been involved in the events regarding Sleipnir, Crown Prince Loki, and Baldr.

“Both,” her sharp smile returned at his words, “but I found nothing there. Nothing of interest. 'Twas a fool's errand...”

“All the more foolish for the fool or the one who has been fooled,” he echoed a statement she had said long before and saw her sharp smile flash into a kind one.

“Then the fool who has pined away for want and received nothing?” she asked and he looked away from her, absently twinning almost invisible threads of a spell in his fingers.

Loki had only given him just enough for the task, and he knew he should not waste the gift that sat almost unnatural within him, but he could not help but fall back into old habits. The threads of the gift that had been bestowed seemingly were patched into him, but he could still feel the tattered remains of his core. It had been brutally ripped out by Eir after Loki had used it against him in one of Fenrir's classic arsenal of assassin skills. The spellwork given to him for this task was seemingly shoved into the gaping hole in him and left there like a lump of coal. If he had been a familiar, it would have threaded and healed – almost like a regeneration of sorts.

“It is improper of me to ask,” he said, giving her a flat look, “and I have already received enough of the ravens' looks to know that-”

“You should leave and have already overstayed your welcome?” Hel finished, the kindness disappearing in an instant from her expression, “you know it as well as I do. We unnatural creatures overstay our welcome very shortly when we do not conform as those expect us to-”

“I will never leave Loki's side,” Jormungandr replied, “I love him too much to abandon him like so many others have.”

Hel's smile was definitely now unkind, “Poor, poor Jormungandr. Perhaps it is you who have been abandoned, not him. After all, he has his beloved brother, Thor-”

“And it is why I am helping him get him back by doing everything he asks of me-” he did not like the look on her face and pressed his lips together, “Hel-”

“Peace, little one, peace,” she held up a hand as her face softened a little, “I mean not to rile you up with my words. But this is what is whispered by the dead who have recently come. It is what Fenrir fears as he serves in my Court.”

“F-Fenrir? Y-You've talked to him...you let him serve you?”

“He and I have an agreement,” Hel tilted her head and Jormungandr immediately understood that she would not elaborate. Whatever agreement his dead brother had made with the Queen of Helheim was theirs and theirs alone. But he was glad that Fenrir had found something in the afterlife instead of the broken hatred he had for Loki when he was alive. “Though I do wonder what may become of you yet, Jormungandr,” she mused almost wistfully, though he figured it was definitely not wistful. The Queen of the Dead did not do wistful. “Would he ever let you know the reason why? Or would you find out in such terrible fashion...”

“I fear the taste of my cousin's ash has made you even more addled-brain,” he raised an eyebrow at her murmurs.

“Why do you not make the gift given into poison? It is within your reasoning to do so and I am sure the Prince would not care for one whit,” she suddenly asked and he blinked, the threads he had been twining in his fingers falling away. How did she know? It was true that Loki had set down the bag of healing stones in front of him and gave him a modular containing the right amount of spellwork he needed, but there had literally been no other instructions.

He had presumed based on Loki's willingness to work with Coulson that these stones were to be used to help shield the Avengers or give them a more potent healing factor whenever they used it in battle against Baldr, but Hel was correct. He could just as easily put the same amount, but added a complexity in the weave of spellwork that rendered the healing stones as poisonous as his own venom in gaseous form like he had two years ago. It certainly had killed a lot of hapless mortals, even incapacitated Captain America and Black Widow.

He could easily do it and he knew Loki would not even bat an eye. He would attributed to the fight with Baldr, to poison and kill the Avengers because they were – in Loki's words – idiots. That he could easily give Loki Midgard by depriving the realm of its defenders the Avengers. It would be the start of regaining the realms under Loki Allfather's rule...

He had done it to others – done it to lesser species when he was with Fenrir and learning his tradecraft.

The easily naïve answer that 'killing is wrong' flitted across his mind, but that was a very Thor response and Jormungandr had no inclination of mimicking Loki's oafish brother. In fact, he readily detested Thor. He was an idiot who tried too hard to please those who adored him, tried too hard to be friends without understanding the person – had made fun of Loki, had bullied him, had pushed him around so much when they were younger that Jormungandr would readily kill him if he had been given the chance. In fact, he had almost done so when Fenrir had spoke of the plan of regicide. His only regret was that he had underestimated the initial poison delivered to Thor's system to incapacitate him and instead, it had left him in the Healing Hall. He supposed that the consolation was the follow up plan for them to search for the 'cure' to the poison and thereby drew away the Warriors Three and Lady Sif.

So then why was he hesitating? These Avengers were certainly Thor's friends and comrades, and pretty much had the same mindset as the Asgardian himself as well as those of the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. Even though two of them held the comforting buzz of magick that was from the monster that bore him, it still did nothing for his contempt about them. He could see why Loki was intrigued, but not fond – Loki was never _fond_ of anyone, even of Fenrir and Sigyn, though Thor came close, he supposed – by the ones called Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanova, and maybe Captain America, but it was only fleeting as the lives of mortals were. The others he knew Loki would rather throw into a wall and leave behind in the dust if he could.

And so he tolerated them, even answered their questions, because if Loki decided he would work with them to find Baldr – and in turn find Thor, he would help him in his goal, no matter the cost. He was... Jormungandr blinked as he realized something... Of all of the times he had interacted with Loki, during the days of the coterie, and even now...he realized that never once had Loki asked anything of him. Had not _ordered_ or requested something of him... He had certainly taken without permission, ripping the deep magick within him to heal himself of the poison that Fenrir had bitten into his flesh two years ago. But he had never asked. But even then, that was technically not taken by Loki. That was his own poisonous magick negating the magick he had within himself, akin to one's own body healing a self-made wound.

Fenrir had always asked...even Hel had asked...but Loki...

And Loki would _never_ ask him to be his familiar.

“He allows me to be myself without asking for anything in return,” Jormungandr said softly as he realized the real reason why he had professed his absolute loyalty to Loki. He already was devoted to him, but this was the first time he had truly understood _why_ . Loki was allowing him to see who he truly was, who Jormungandr was, without the questions, without people asking him to do things, without anything in return. And it _frightened_ him. Because he knew that he could easily turn the bag of healing stones he had yet to finish in front of him into poison, and Loki would _not_ do anything.

He could easily have left the Court of Asgard as soon as the restrictions had been lifted on him from Loki. He could have easily left and while Odin might have hunted him down, Jormungandr had _years_ of experience tending to the shadows, skills he had learned from Fenrir. He could have easily left any time he wanted to, but had stayed. All because not only for his love for the Prince, but because like he had told Sleipnir, it was unconditional. It was absolute and loyal. Sure, Loki ordered him around while they were in the remnants of the HYDRA Base, but he had not asked him, had allowed himself to do whatever he wanted, fight however he wanted. And Jormungandr had fallen back into old habits during his coterie days, knowing how Loki fought and had supplemented the defensive and offensive aspects he knew the Prince was lacking in.

Another thought occurred to him, “What was Sleipnir's to the Crown Prince?”

“You do not want to know of Fenrir's?” Hel asked and Jormungandr shook his head, his drink long forgotten as she downed the rest of hers.

“My brother loved him as a lover or husband loves their other half of a whole,” he replied, “it is a different love than I have. Similar in some respects, but different I would think.”

“Perceptive,” Hel replied before folding her spindly hands in front of her, flicking what looked like a mote off of her formless dress. It screamed as it dissipated into the air. “You know of Sleipnir's parentage?”

“His sire, yes, his dame, no,” Jormungandr blinked once at Hel, “there are very few who have the distinctive markings that make us Thanos' sons.”

“Such pretty eyes,” she cooed in a false tone and he ignored her as he rolled his eyes, “icy blue, when wanton lust could not be satisfied by my mother's love...”

“Your mother does not love,” Jormungandr had only met Mistress Death twice and one of the times was in the very early formation of the coterie.

“And so like the Prince too,” she smirked at him, “he said that you know.”

“Sleipnir,” he stated. He wondered if she was having a conversation with him that he was not even aware of, much like the gibberish she, Loki, and Sigyn would have that no one in their coterie could understand.

“And you wish to know if this 'absolute loyalty' you claim to share the traits of with your half brothers, was also what drove Sleipnir to madness?” she asked and he nodded.

“It seemed logical,” he shrugged.

“Yes,” she stated in a simple tone, before falling silent.

“That and Ragnarok, as he claimed,” he had seen the vision the ravens had put forth to the rest of the Avengers. While the Avengers had seemed overwhelmed with dread in the end of it, Jormungandr had a different feeling – he despaired.

“Ragnarok is the catalyst,” Hel replied cryptically, “but to answer your question, Sleipnir's was to yours.”

Jormungandr fell silent as he puzzled out what she had said before he pursed his lips together, that same despair he had in him after seeing the vision from the ravens filling him. Was it all for naught then? Had Sleipnir seen so easily through him to claim what he had claimed when he had questioned him? Was he that transparent? Logic demanded that he should leave then. Do what the ravens had overtly tried to hint at, the others more subtle about it. Leave it all behind and never appear in front of Loki's presence again. Leave Asgard, disappear forever. Use the skills he had acquired from his brother's teachings and from the contracts he had carried out to settle somewhere – maybe Vanaheim, and disappear. That he would forever not be a disruption at Odin's Court because that was what everyone saw him as.

Because if he stayed, Sleipnir's words implied that he too, would eventually betray Loki, would do the same and fall into the same madness that had consumed his eldest brother. And judging how Loki would never ask him to be his familiar, would never ask anything of him and allow him to be who he wanted to be...the real question became: who was Jormungandr without anyone asking him to do things for them? Traitor? Betrayer? Devoted servant? Adored adopted-son from the figment of his imagination? Poisoner? Assassin? Thanos' son?

“Logic demands I should leave,” he whispered quietly, curling in on himself as he stared at the barely-filled glass of whatever was in Stark's cabinets.

“You will not,” Hel's reply was surprisingly gentle and he looked at her sideways. She was absently fingering the threads of her dress, eliciting a moan of pain from the souls of the damned trapped in it that seemingly disappeared as she stopped her movements.

“I cannot,” he agreed quietly, folding his fingers together and resting it on his forehead. “I will not...” He breathed out quietly, “Hel...am I doomed?”

“We all are,” she said, her voice a monotone, but he caught the current of a tremor in her voice, “we can never escape our fates, no matter how much we wish it to be.”

“Is this a reprieve?” he asked, feeling a little more than helpless.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” she replied, her words cryptic as ever.

“I will die...” he echoed, “I will go mad and I will die.”

Silence answered him and Jormungandr dared not peek out from under his hands to see if Hel left or not. It would be like her to leave him after this, but he did not remember her ever leaving him in such despair. She was kind to him, treated him differently, and he got to see a side of her that he knew she never showed it to anyone else. In a way, she was like his older sister, or perhaps even a mother of sorts, to him as Fenrir's brother. She never took care of him, but she treated him differently.

“I offer an exchange,” she suddenly said and he peeked out from under his hands to see her staring at him with a serious expression on her face.

“What is your price?” he gave her a tired smile. He knew, like the others, that anything she offered always had a price. Loki certainly paid one when it had been reported that Hel had escaped the dungeons after she had been sentenced to stay there for a certain amount of days. All of Hel's prices were never discussed, nor inquired about – it was an agreement much like Hel had with Fenrir. Asking after one's agreement was just plain rude and got you withering looks from the parties involved.

“Hear the exchange first, Jormungandr,” she chided, “there will a chance for you to prove opposite of Sleipnir's intentions. Should you choose to sacrifice that which the Prince holds so dear, he will be free of his geas, but you will not receive what you hold dear to your heart. However, should you choose otherwise, the path will be filled with unimaginable pain for both you and the Prince. That alternate path, however, will provide you with with the opportunity for what _you_ hold so dear to your heart.”

“And Loki's geas?” he asked and saw the corner of her lips flit up in a quick smile at his perceptiveness.

“It remains to be seen. It has been surprisingly clouded to me,” she replied and Jormungandr blinked, surprised at her confession. She normally never told anyone what she could or could not see with her unique magick. “I do give warning though, my mother's hand reaches out in both paths. Whom she plucks for hers I do not know...”

“The choice is not so simple is it?” his first instinct was to say that he would choose the sacrifice of whatever Loki held dear over his own desires. But as he mulled over her words, he realized that if he did that...it would more than likely irrevocably turn Loki against him. And in a way, fulfill Sleipnir's words – he would end up like Sleipnir, betray the Prince. But if he did not sacrifice whatever Loki held dear to his heart, then there was no guarantee that the geas would be lifted on his Prince. And Jormungandr _knew_ that geas would be causing problems soon if Thanos was freed from the Tesseract on Asgard.

She only made a humming sound that could have sounded like a deathly choir of sorts.

“What is your price for this warning?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

She only gestured wordlessly to the still-filled glass he had not touched since she had set it down next to the pile of healing stones. He gave her a long look before turning to the glass and then back to her before picking it up gingerly.

“I will regret this, won't I?” he asked. If this was the price, then there was more than likely a magick spell of sorts running through it. Hel's prices were never this simple and since she had said it tasted like ash, he supposed that the spell would activate once he swallowed the drink. He had a feeling that it would not kill him, but it would certainly do something that his body would react to. She only watched him with a measured gaze before he took a deep breath and released it slowly before downing the drink in one gulp.

It burned.

It burned like the fires of Muspelheim and Jormungandr nearly choked at the sensation that crawled through him. He instinctively reacted, pulling at the magick Loki had given him to fight off the poisonous taste of ash, soot, and starfire that had been in the drink. He drew upon the years of experience he had and weaved spell after spell to purge it from him as he fought off the effects. He could feel the spikes of pain rushing through him, threatening to liquify his insides as he squirmed and fought against it. He could feel the healing spells within him stave it off and pushed more towards it as the agony started to build. He would not scream, he would never scream, because it was cowardice and he should know better. Because he would conquer it and burn it from him, because he would burn hotter than what was coursing through him- Jormungandr seized the last remnants of what had been given to him and pushed at it weakly, his body, his mind, his spellwork exhausted to the brink-

And did not see Hel stand up as his eyelids fluttered close, successfully purging the poison that had been fed to him and he collapsed boneless onto the couch.

* * *

Hel stood up from the couch she had sat on, absently smoothing a wrinkle in her dress that sent a wave of demonic souls from it. Most called it the howl of the damned, but they were her...pets would be stretching it...but pets was an apt word in this case. She watched as Jormungandr fell unconscious, having successfully proven his spellwork was as excellent as it was the day he had been ripped of his core. It also proved something she had been wondering about for a long time – if an atypical mage was able to retain the spellwork he or she had before their cores had been taken. Most mages in that state had reverted to being familiars or went completely mad from the lack of cores and thus she could not prove her own thoughts.

“It would have been better if you had killed him,” the familiar soft caw of Muunin made her look up at where a cleverly hidden alcove was in the common area of this part of the Avengers Tower. It was the same area to whom she had talked to Loki just a few hours ago before he had wandered off to who knew where, except the balcony was devoid of anyone now.

“For you, or for him?” she asked as the raven flew down and transformed into his human form. “And, your companion may wish to come down too,” she called up and a few seconds later, the dark form of the mortal codenamed Hawkeye landed in front of her.

Huugin was silently perched on his shoulder and did not deign to turn into his human form nor cackle and caw like the universe was a cosmic joke, as he was wont to do. Hel was a little saddened, because she liked Huugin better than his brother Muunin. Muunin was crass, obstinate, and did not understand her like Huugin did. But then again, Huugin was not the one at the doors to her realm before both were snatched up by Odin with the promise to make them his familiars.

“Agent Barton,” she greeted the mortal who was staring at her with an intense look, “you were always good at spotting what should not be there, like myself.”

“Call it practice,” the agent replied tightly.

“Or perhaps the Prince's mind has stifled yours-”

“Keep talking lady about that and I will shoot you with an arrow even if you're some crazy lady who deals in death,” he threatened and she only gave him the barest hint of a smile.

“I merely meant to imply that perhaps so much time around the Gems has made you unusually perceptive,” she said and saw his eyes narrow in anger. She sighed inwardly. How did the true-born son of Odin find these mortals interesting was beyond her. Her Prince was right, these mortals were easily riled, manipulated, and used with puppet strings. It was laughable.

“So, you killing him, lady?” he asked in a rude tone, “cause if you did, you've got my vote. The bastard deserves it for what he did to Nat and Cap.”

“I merely cleansed him for what he has already chosen, even if he does not know it yet,” she replied and saw him frown. She _knew_ he had heard a majority of their conversation, but did not really care for the trivialities of it. It would eventually trickle down to the others of his kind, and that was generally what she wanted. How it would be interpreted would be up to them, but there was some amusement in seeing them dance like the puppets they were.

“He should leave,” Muunin stated, “it is unbecoming-”

“Odin, you worry too much,” she glanced at the raven who did not seem shock that she was directly addressing his master beyond him, “your grief has turned to the ashes of Jotunheim and now as you sit prisoner, you lash out at everything.”

“He is correct,” Muunin reiterated stubbornly, echoing Odin's words, and Hel shook her head a little bit, her ringlets flicking into her face.

“It is to be seen,” she said before looking at the mortal named Clint Barton, “Jormungandr will survive.”

“Too fucking bad,” Barton growled out, “don't think I'll do him any favors, lady.”

“You will if you wish to find Thor,” she countered and saw him narrow his gaze again. But instead of anger, there was a calculating shrewdness behind it. She liked it; it reminded her greatly of some of the more interesting mortals she had come across in her years of ruling her realm. Such cleverness was rarely shown by Barton, but when it did, he had the potential to be quite formidable. It was a pity that he was so humble about it and usually let his partner Natasha Romanova, Stark, or even Phil Coulson who had been literally snapped from the steps of her realm, overshadow him.

“The Captain's shield nestled under him should help,” she suggested and saw him stare at her.

“You got a price, as the kid said,” Barton was not fooled and she gave him the same sharp smile she had given to Jormungandr. It was full of teeth and she saw him recoil a little, Huugin flapping his wings to stay on his shoulder at the sudden movement.

“Your price has already been paid, Agent Barton,” she said before she tapped her own head, “paid twice over by the Prince's actions and by Baldr's.” Before he or the ravens could say anything else, she gently folded the shadows of Yggdrasil with her fingers and walked through it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering, Hel is being Hel – which means, being completely and utterly unpredictable. She could have a fairly normal conversation with one person (Jormungandr) and have a completely cryptic one filled with undertones the next (Loki). It's a part of her character in the story, that she is occasionally tactile and likes to push people's metaphoric buttons, or just test them because she can. She's also very flighty and fickle if you can't quite tell yet and as far as I know, I've written her very differently than her comics counterpart or anime counterpart. I love writing her...also writing Jormungandr because they are two characters who have history together and separately that is unlike the Avengers and even Loki's own POV.  
> Also, is it cannibalism for Jormungandr to drink something a snake was fermenting in?


	16. Chapter 16

Sleep had been elusive as Loki traced the edging along the wall of one of the many hallways in the tower. It was surprisingly spartan when he expected Stark's ostentatious flare to override common sense. He could feel the subtle spellwork holding as he traced the edgings of the wall in his meandering walk. That was perhaps a saving grace, he supposed, though he also dreaded that it had been an automatic reaction when he had felt  _it_ begin just before Hel had appeared. He had no doubts that she was able to see it, and perhaps it was also the reason for her appearance, but what it accomplished for her he did not know. It hardly accomplished anything for him.

He had briefly stopped in the medical ward that Sif had been placed in to recover from her wounds, but had left just as quickly, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. He had only assured himself that it was because Sif had delivered Gungnir and Sleipnir to him that he was making sure she was recovering. Thor would have sat next to her and she would have appreciated his brother's presence instead of his if she woke up.

He had no desire to question Sleipnir at the moment, the freshness of the wound that was the knowledge of Asgard's fall still on in his mind. Plus, Loki pragmatically knew that he would sooner rip apart the bound mage than question him for the part he played in Asgard's downfall. It would be very Thor-like to currently go and hit the mage several times as punishment and he had no desire to emulate his brother and his oafish, bullheaded ways. He felt restless, after Hel's talk and after seeing the conjured illusion that Muunin had summoned for the Avengers to see, and so wandered the hallways and floors of Stark's tower. He knew that a trip to the libraries or even to the private gardens on Asgard would allow him to sate the restlessness he felt, but there was no such equivalence here. Rarely, would he stop by the combat ring, as that was where Thor and his friends inhabited and trained.

Loki suddenly paused at the quiet hiss of double doors opening to his right. He absently lifted his fingers from tracing the walls as he peered in, having found that some of the doors on the floors he had been wandering on did the same thing if he was nearby. It seemed that there was some kind of invisible sensor at work, much like some of the doors on the Helicarrier. He had absently spelled it and found a small infrared sensor that used the basest laser had been the trigger. It was rudimentary use of magick, but effective for the primitive mortals he supposed.

Normally he would not have paid much heed to the doors sliding open, but this one opened to something that looked cavernous and barely lit. It was unlike the smaller rooms and labs he had found himself in and he stepped in, his curiosity getting the better of him. He could hear the faint sound of something metallic grinding, followed by soft punching-like sounds as he went deeper into the cavernous room. It looked a little like the main training salle on Asgard, except there were things he vaguely recognized from what he had picked from Agent Barton's mind years ago regarding primitive Midgardian culture.

Loki considered leaving the training salle-like room when he felt it at the same time he heard the grinding sound turn into a louder whine. The whine was abruptly cut off by the sudden crunch of something

“...Shit...” he heard the muttered Midgardian curse. He peered around a corner to see the metal-armed soldier with the red star etched onto the side, stand up from where he had apparently cratered the ground with his arm. He could feel the tingle of an oddly-familiar magick exuding from the metal arm, before it faded at the same time the whining sound dissipated.

However, before he could cloak himself in shadow and leave, he saw the metal-armed man suddenly look up, a hunted look on his face as he stared right at him. Loki managed to keep his own surprise from showing at the fact that the metal-armed man was able to _see_ him, even though he was pretty sure that he was nearly blended into the darkness of the dimly lit room. The hunted look did not fade, but Loki could clearly see the man visibly struggling with masking it as he stared unblinkingly at him. To his surprise there was no sign of fear, of hatred, of the loathing, contempt, and disgust he was used to seeing in all of the other Avengers' faces – Romanov and Banner's included. It was as if the man was not afraid of him, but afraid of _himself_.

Loki could not help the fact that his curiosity was a little more piqued by the man's lack of reaction to his presence. He was so used to the Avengers' looks that he had all but put it out of his mind, but this man... He vaguely remembered that the metal-armed man had been with the Captain and the one who wore wings when he had first arrived and had fearlessly thrown a dagger at him without even a second thought or hint of whom he was; but it had been clearly in defense to the Captain before being seemingly placated by the soldier's words.

The next time he had seen him was when the Avengers had arrived by their quinjet and had he had leapt into the fray, not even deigning him a second glance before fighting along side him – whereas Loki knew for a fact that even with decisive blasts, shields thrown and what not, there was always the barest amount of hesitation in their movements whenever they fought alongside him. It was as if this man did not care one whit about who he was, and while it would have normally prickled something disdainful in Loki, along with a healthy dose of annoyance, this time, it only prickled curiosity.

The last time he had been treated so...neutrally...was by Fenrir and Jormungandr. And he had _known_ of Fenrir's body of work and skill-set before introductions had been rendered. Back then, he would have expected Fenrir to have known who the second Prince of Asgard was, as it would have seemed prudent throughout the nine realms, but the assassin and his younger brother had treated him like he was just someone who was not high-born and instead, as someone who was completely neutral. Even Death had not treated him like such when he had learned from her, nor Hel.

It would have been so easy for Loki to dismiss the metal-armed man as one of the foolish mortals, and resume his sleepless wandering – and he was sorely tempted to – but he did not know why he decided against it. Instead, he took a step outside of the elongated shadows that he thought had hid him. “You do not see me like the others,” he said bluntly, hoping it got a reaction or even a protest out of the other man. It would only prove that he was just as idiotic as the rest of Thor's friends.

“No history,” the man did not move an inch from his kneeling position, and Loki raised an eyebrow at his answer. _That_ was not the answer he was expecting.

“Surely I must have done something to earn your ire-”

“Was on ice,” the man replied softly, his voice completely and utterly neutral, “HYDRA. Baron von Strucker and Vasily Karpov.”

Loki frowned, “Sleipnir and Baldr.” He thought a little more, studying the man's countenance and lack of expression. There was still the hunted look there, still directed at himself and not at him, before it occurred to him that the metal-armed man meant his words literally, “Cryogenics.”

“No history,” the metal-armed man repeated with the smallest of shrugs, as if it did not bother him, “heard about what you did, though.”

“And yet you have no opinion,” Loki scoffed in disbelief.

“Can't have an opinion until I have history,” the metal-armed man replied, “got history with Strucker and Karpov. Seems to align with your opinion on them.”

“And what,” Loki found something off in the man's seemingly flippant manner and sneered, “do you think my opinion of them is?”

“Karpov took Thor,” he replied as if it was the simplest answer ever and something in Loki flared in irritation.

“What of it?!” his initial curiosity had been replaced by an annoyance at the metal-armed man, all of his opinions of him as a hapless mortal, a stupid idiotic one who did not understand what was happening and was just as oafish as _Thor_ came raging down all at once-

“You're not doing it for Asgard, not even for yourself, but for Thor,” the metal-armed man's blunt words hit him just as he opened his mouth again and he shut it with an audible click. He glared at him as the metal-armed man pushed himself up from his kneeling position. Loki suddenly wanted to slam him back down into the kneeling position again and demand that he take back his words.

Something of what he had been thinking must have shown on his face as he suddenly registered the tiniest movement of the metal fingers gesturing the familiar universal sign for 'come at me.' It was as if the sudden boiling _frustration_ that Loki did not know he had been feeling since Sleipnir's arrival at the throne room burst from a dam and he found himself reacting to the gesture. A very small part of him knew that he would not have given even a single time of day to such a goad, making him so much more like Thor, but he ruthlessly batted that part away as he conjured several daggers and threw them at the metal-armed man.

To his surprise, he saw the silvery arm flash upwards and his daggers dissipated harmlessly off of it, not even leaving a single scratch or mark. Just as suddenly, Loki registered the kick coming towards his face and immediately reacted, bringing up a hastily conjured dagger to block the blow as it crashed on his forearm. He slashed across, hoping to cut the cloth or at least get at the man's leg, but was surprised once more as the metal-armed man twisted and flipped, kicking him across the face. His neck snapped to the side as he grunted, the force of the blow stronger and more painful than he had expected. It felt like being sucker-punched by a bligesnipe and he felt himself stumbling away, absently wiping at the sting on his lip. Not one of the Avengers had even managed to physically him hard enough to draw blood; not even Captain America for all of his strength. Only the green monster known as the Hulk had come close.

It came away bloodied and Loki barked out a short quiet laugh. It was this man...this man with the metal-arm painted with a red star that had managed to not only hit him, but to also draw blood.

The metal-armed man straightened and stared at him, his brown eyes almost expressionless save for the barest hint of a challenging look in them. So, that was how it was to be played...and Loki found himself accepting the challenge as he felt the tingle of spells on his fingers, setting himself for the next round. He lashed out, sending a quick wave of spellwork that the metal-armed man dodged and absorbed with his magick-laced arm before charging at him, knife in hand.

But this time Loki was ready as he summoned his glaive from the spaces-in-between and swept the bladed end towards him, sending sparks into the air as it was blocked by the metallic left arm. He fired a blast of ice-bound magick as the man turned inward, dodging it before slashing at him with his knife. Loki blocked with the length of his glaive before flicking the butt end to knock the man off guard, but he leapt back with an inhuman speed that Loki had only seen on one other in the Avengers – the Captain himself.

The challenging look was back again, but this time, there was something oddly familiar about it. He brushed it aside as he fired a blast of ice towards the metal-armed man, a small smirk of triumph lifting the corner of his lips as he saw the metal arm itself being encased in a block of ice. However, his triumph was short lived as he suddenly conjured a shield to the glint that appeared in the other man's hand and fired projectile bullets at him. They pinged off of the shield and Loki barely had time to duck and throw up another guard as the metal-armed man charged at him, seemingly unaffected by the added weight his ice-encased arm must have been in.

He caught the cleaving blow of the icy arm against the shaft of his glaive as it broke and shattered chunks of ice all around them and Loki had the grin tightly at the prowess and forethought of the man's intelligence in using what should have normally been a disabling shot against him. The man was far more clever than the foolhardy mortals he normally associated them with. Not even a single Avenger could have thought of what he had just done he surmised as the man suddenly withdrew instead of pressing the advantage he clearly had.

Loki momentarily frowned at the retreat before it hit him as he recognized the challenging look and of also how the man was fighting and retreating. There was also the initial taunt of drawing him in... It was all feints, all ploys. The initial wash of frustrating anger and irritation he had felt for the man for his short, cryptic answers, gave way to a sense of wry – he dared not name it respect – regard. It was exactly what Thor sometimes did during their sparring in the training salle when they were younger – but became less and less frequent as they had grown up. It had also contributed to his decline of training with Thor, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif. He had almost forgotten what it was like, the coterie working more in unison with each other than training with each other like warriors.

Loki allowed the smirk that had been tugging on the corner of his lips to fully bloom and set himself in a stance that he was all too familiar with as he held his glaive with one hand near him, his other outstretched. The metal-armed man only nodded once at his smile, his flesh-and-blood hand still holding the gun, leaving his metal arm free. That was the key as he glanced at it. He splayed his fingers out, sending forth several illusions of himself, all whom charged at the metal-armed man. The arm was clearly designed to absorb magick and he had no doubts that it was due to the properties inside it, which he still could not figure out why it was so familiar to him. He had been attacking from range with his magick and it seemed that though the man's attacks were stronger than most of the Avengers, the metal-armed man's arrogance in thinking that he would be defeated in a sparring match with physicality was about to be shattered.

At least that was the plan as Loki saw the metal-armed man set himself, glancing around him quickly at the conjured illusions charging at him. Loki drew the barest shadow over himself as he dodged to the right and launched his attack with his glaive-

Only to be intercepted by a quick brutal kick to the chest before the whining and hum of the metal-arm grabbed his glaive and threw him to the side. Shock flitted across him as he quickly recovered, rolling to his feet and ducking to the side to avoid an overhead ax-kick before he swept the bladed end into the man's chest and sent him across the floor. The screech of metal-on-the floor set his teeth on edge as the metal-armed man dug his hand into the ground to stop his momentum before lifting the hand up and stood up from his crouch with the barest of smiles on his face.

Loki could see that the glaive had cut into the man's body armor, a clear slash that parted cloth and fiber, but it seemed that his blow had not done much damage. So the man was adept at both close quarters combat and had the ability to negate the magick he threw at him. He was also adept at picking out his illusions even though Loki knew that he had conjured some of his best. Against his own feelings regarding the other Avengers, Loki found that his regard for this metal-armed man was growing a little. He was truly of his word, that there was no shared history between them, meaning no prejudices, and it showed by their brief clashes. He knew that no other Avenger, not even the green monster Banner had within him, would give him the time of day nor allow him the chance at such a 'sparring' after everything that had happened.

And something in him refused to believe that this was the case. This was not a charitable act, this was something- “Why?” he bit out, his initial annoyance and frustration rising up again even though a very small part of him yearned to leave it be; to take it for what it was. He quashed it without mercy. He was a monster, a Frost Giant, a Jotun, and killed millions of people because he was the nightmare that frightened children-

“Baldr never broke me,” the metal-armed man replied with a steady look.

It hit Loki immediately as he blinked and took an unconscious step back. Realization flooded him at the metal-armed man's words as his mind raced with and against the possibilities. It was as if a very large puzzle piece just fitted together, making him see the whole of the situation as well as open up numerous questions and possibilities. He did not know what connection the metal-armed man had with Baldr, and truth be told, did not care one whit, but in other cases, it made so much sense. Loki was about to abruptly turn and leave without another word before he considered what the metal-armed man had just done.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment and muttered, “Excuse me.” Without even deigning another glance at him, he turned on his heel, his glaive returning to the spaces in between and headed to the doors that slid open just as he approached-

And ran straight into the blond-haired, blue-eyed soldier, Captain Rogers.

“Uh, hey-”

Loki brushed past him with an arched look, noting the fact that the Captain looked bedraggled, as if he had been sleeping and abruptly woken up. His shield was in his hand and he looked concerned. He surmised that someone had alerted the Captain that he and the metal-armed man had been sparring in the makeshift training salle and the soldier had probably ran down here to ensure that the mortal had not been harmed. Pathetic and idiotic, the derisive thought passed through his head, though considering what he had learned about Captain Rogers and his glimpse into Baldr's plans...

“Sleipnir has a geas with Baldr,” he said curtly before brushing past the bewildered look Captain Rogers shot at him as he rounded the corner. There was a particular so-called _Sentinel_ of Asgard he had to question.

* * *

It took Steve a moment to pull himself out of the funk he had fallen into after Loki had turned the corner and left the area. When JARVIS had woken him up with a slightly concerned note about Bucky fighting Loki, he had feared the worst and had rushed down from his suite in the penthouse area. He had initially panicked when his shield was not by his bedside only to run into Clint who said that he had taken it and placed it next to Jormungandr in the common area. Steve did not have time to ask why as he found his shield next to the younger man who looked deathly pale, but seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He had taken it and rushed down several floors, only to find Loki in the midst of leaving.

Steve shook his head as he turned and looked at Bucky who was staring at him with, as far as he could tell, a mild look. “You okay, Buck?” he asked, staring pointedly at the jagged slash that was from the right side of his stomach to his shoulder. The body armor was clearly torn, revealing a plain tee-shirt underneath.

“I made a new friend,” Bucky replied almost carelessly and Steve blanched.

“Bucky-”

“I'm pretty sure if we were both going at it, Stark wouldn't have a training room anymore,” Bucky leveled him with a look before wincing, rubbing his forehead. Steve grimaced in consternation at the movement, realizing that with all that had been happening, his best friend was still fighting the programming that had been seared into his mind. He watched as his friend turned and stared at a point in the floor, absently scuffing it with a boot before walking deeper into the training room.

Steve followed, glancing over to where Bucky had been looking at and saw both a neat cratered remnant of concrete along with five parallel grooves. It was clear that the fight had an edge to it, and judging by the blast marks and what looked like patches of the floor and walls encased in ice, the fight had almost turned for the worse. He sighed as he switched his shield to his other arm and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He hits like a brick,” he commented absently, remembering his own fight with Loki three years ago, as he saw Bucky grab a towel and chug a whole bottle of water.

“He does,” his best friend replied as he rotated his metal arm, the soft humming whine a little louder than Steve would have expected.

“Are you okay?” He got a glare in return before Bucky crushed the water bottle in his hands and threw it into the recycling bin across the training room. “Bucky, this is Loki we're talking about. I know you've only read the files on him-”

“Why are we helping him?” Bucky asked, his voice barely audible over the growl of words as he flicked his towel over his shoulder and turned to stare at him. Steve could see the crinkle of pain in them, and knew that his friend was fighting the programming, but he could not help but wonder if there was also something else behind the pain.

“...For Thor...because even if Loki doesn't want our help, we can at least mitigate some of the damage he will more than likely inflict on the Earth,” he replied slowly and carefully.

“Why are _you_ helping him?” his friend asked and Steve drew in a sharp breath. He knew Bucky was asking him directly about why he had told all of them what he had seen in the brief moments of lucidity under Baldr's control. What he had seen. He knew that he could have easily dismissed it, or even told Loki later in a more private setting, but he had said in openly when it had been hard for him. He knew what all of the reports said about Loki, even the ones the psychologists had analyzed and the ones officially on record. If Bucky had just read those, Steve knew what kind of conclusion he could come up with, and he knew that his actions were contrary to the basic knowledge to stay away from anything and everything that was Loki and instead, have Thor as the Asgardian liason so to speak.

“Because I can't be a hypocrite,” he replied, staring at his best friend square in the eye and saw the barest twitch of a smile appear on his lips.

Bucky had received his unspoken message loud and clear – that for all of their differences, if he was hell-bent on helping Bucky get better - the Winter Soldier a known mass murderer and assassin - he would extend the same basic courtesy to Loki, another known mass murderer. That he could not, in good conscience, have his cake and eat it too; that he also might have seen bits of Bucky and bits of himself in Loki had everything in their lives not gone the way it had gone – that while on the surface, Loki sneered at everything they were, he was lost without Thor. Because if Steve was able to bring back Bucky, his best friend and not-by-blood brother, with help from his friends, then he sure as hell was not going to give up on Loki or Thor.

He tilted his head a little as he studied Bucky who was staring back at him with the faint smile on his lips. Shaking his head he realized that what Bucky had done with Loki, was basically the same thing he had done – except it was with the only way Bucky probably knew how in terms of what he knew about Loki. “And you still think I'm the one to pull stupid stunts?”

“It's all of the stupid you took with you,” his best friend shot back and for the first time in what seemed to be a very long time since Bucky had arrived at the Avengers Tower weeks ago, Steve laughed.

“I thought it rubbed off on you,” he replied before sobering a little, “Loki says that Sleipnir has a geas with Baldr...which means...” He glanced up at the ceiling, even though he knew that JARVIS was technically everywhere. “JARVIS,” he called out to Tony's A.I., “wake the others. I think Loki's got a plan of action.”

* * *

Natasha knew that most would consider what she was doing to be dangerous; maybe even compulsive. After all, Sleipnir in the guise of Baron von Strucker, had said a code word that knocked her out. It was the same with James, but that was precisely the reason why she was doing what she was doing. She needed to be sure that she and James would not be compromised. And since she was less of a risk in terms of combat strength and ability compared to James, it would be easy for her to question Sleipnir. She knew that any other person would constitute it as a sacrifice of sorts on her part, but to her, it was practicality versus wishful thinking. James was still dealing with the after effects of coming to terms with his 'mission' to kill Steve Rogers. He was also not as efficient of a interrogator as she was.

But there was also no one else that could ask the questions that needed to be asked. Coulson and his team were still recovering, and she already knew that the last couple of days with Loki here was running him more ragged than usual. Even though Coulson had said that he had come to terms with Loki being freed to wander around; considering he had been murdered, Natasha knew that deep down Coulson was more than likely still coming to terms. Clint was certainly not an option even though he had insight into Sleipnir's actions as Strucker at the base. She was more than certain that Sleipnir had intel on Clint and she would never subject her partner to that type of reverse interrogation.

Steve's honesty was unsuited for it, and Bruce was out of the question. Maria was a possibility, but Natasha knew that she was trying to help Coulson as well as fend off the press and media about Loki's appearance in Union Square and Thor's attack. She would never ask Stark to try to question Sleipnir – not if they all wanted to live a little longer. She had considered calling Fury, but she also did not want to reveal to Loki that Fury was technically still alive. They still did not know the consequences of the geas that Fury had made with the Trickster God if it went into effect.

So it was up to her to ferret out the secrets of the man that had more than likely overseen the Black Widow program. The last time she had confronted Sleipnir, he had all but laughed in her face about her abilities before knocking her out with a codeword. But it seemed circumstances were perhaps a little different now, especially since the magic suppressing binders had been put onto him. It would also test her hypothesis that it was Strucker's voice that was modulated to produce the desired effect of a trigger word. She had internally theorized it as they had been heading to Paris after escaping London a little over a week ago. It was because she had heard her own trigger word 'Tchaikovsky' from others and had no reaction, but it had been Strucker's voice that had produced the reaction. She did not discount the fact that Sleipnir might have sent some kind of spell towards her and James considering that he was Asgardian and a mage like Loki. But she was pretty certain of her original hypothesis.

“JARVIS, please open the door,” she called out to Stark's A.I. as she stood in front of it.

“As you wish. I have also notified Agent Hill of your entry,” the computer replied and Natasha only smiled a little as the door slid open. She did not mind that Hill knew; in fact, she hoped that Hill would be an ally in all of this if she was successful in ferreting out what she wanted from Sleipnir. She and Hill were cordial, if business-like with each other for the most part, but Natasha knew that Hill always kept a close eye on her, per their unspoken agreement when she had been brought in from the cold by Barton and even after her Red Room connections discovered.

“Ah, the little spider visits,” Sleipnir's chains jangled lightly, his arms still outstretched, though not as much as when Jormungandr had been questioning him earlier. She supposed the ravens had let his arms down a little, but not enough to give him leverage if he wanted to escape. The ravens were smarter than she had initially given them credit.

“I figure you don't normally sleep, and if you do, it's probably a lot on your conscience,” she said almost flippantly and saw the corner of his lips twitch up in a mirthless smile. It was very like Loki's smile the first time she had met him, as if Sleipnir was biding his own time, playing her like she was playing him.

He leaned against the wall of the room he was in, directly underneath the observation room instead of sitting by the bolted-on rounded table and chair like he had earlier. Natasha could easily read that he was truly tired, but his icy blue eyes were still sharp and predatory. She expected nothing less from the person who had been part of her and James' creation as the Black Widow and Winter Soldier. The body might be tired, but the mind; the keen mind and eyes, he was watching her carefully.

“Are you here to question me again, little spider?” he asked and while another person would have been unnerved by his usage of nearly the same moniker that Muunin had used on her earlier, she was not disturbed by it. It confirmed for her that he had been listening in, even behind thick walls and glass that normally would not have been able to be detected by anyone else. She flicked a quick look around the room before catching how he had done it.

“It is not magic,” she countered, “or rather, magick as you pronounce it, but rather you were watching the reflection of everyone off the walls of the room. You read everyone's lips.”

Sleipnir only snorted, but Natasha caught the faint sense of approval from him. “You've been trained well.”

“And well enough to know that your trigger words can't affect me, not right now at least,” she answered his unspoken question and saw him blink once, the crooked mirthless smile slowly appearing on his lips as he nodded in further approval.

“Vocal modulation with subliminal programming,” he said and Natasha pursed her lips.

“Which means, you've also recorded Strucker's voice and it can be played anywhere at any time,” she said slowly before shaking her head, “no...no it can't. Because there will always been feedback, but in your case, since you've lived for so long and you can shapeshift into Strucker, you would have always been there, out live James and myself.”

“Clever spider,” Sleipnir replied before he leaned forward just a little bit, “tell me, anything else you wish to share in this interrogation of yours? I know all of your methods, all of your secrets, Natochka.”

The tantalizing drop of her pet name, the name that she knew James used for her when they were together as Yasha and Natalia, dangled in front of her. It invited her to ask about her past, the memories she knew were buried under layers and layers of mind wipes, painful ones that she could barely remember and even for the ones she did, they were hazy and disconnected. She instead, ignored his taunt and studied him. He looked very tired, as was her initial assessment, but as she looked at him, she could clearly see the exhaustion in his almost unassuming posture as he leaned against the wall. No...he was not leaning against the wall, more like using it for support, as if, if he let himself hang on the chains, it would somehow drag him away. Which meant he was afraid to sleep and used the cold concrete to keep himself awake. It looked like he was not even feeling the cuts and burns he had received during Asgard's attack even though all of them were bandaged.

“Can't sleep?” she asked with a pointed look and saw him smile faintly at her as he made to cross his arms before the jangle of and pull of chains stopped him.

“As you had said before, the burdens of my sins overwhelm me,” he lied in a clear and deliberate tone.

“Your wrists will probably chafe a bit more,” she gestured with her chin to his outstretched arms, noting the raw redness around his wrists and saw him glance at it, a quick frown gracing his features before he twisted his wrists back and forth. The redness looked it was ringed around, almost etching a pattern of sorts into his skin and Natasha supposed it was the magic on the manacles doing it. She would have liked to think it was etching a list of crimes in Norse or something, but supposed it was wishful thinking on her part.

She turned back to study him, noting that his red-hair seemed to be a bit lackluster and matted with sweat that had not been previously there. His icy blue eyes were still sharp, but they seemed sunken with exhaustion and overall, there was a sense of defeat in his posture that was definitely not there earlier when he had unexpectedly arrived by Bifrost. She could easily imagine a time when he would have been devastatingly handsome with his aristocratically good looks. And with his words and deflection, she had no doubts that he was more than likely a wordsmith like Loki. She did not know much of Sleipnir in the Norse myths except for the fact that he was an eight-legged horse and Odin's mount. That at least gave her something to work with, she supposed. Any person riding an animal trusted the animal implicitly to not throw them off – so by extension, if Sleipnir had Odin's trust, it meant that he was close to Odin and knew a lot of secrets and things. And considering what they knew about the royal family and anyone associated with them, there were expectations – high ones. There were also prejudices and behaviors one must follow if one was associated with the royal family; the clear delineation between the two evident in Sif who was considered Thor's companion and friend and Jormungandr, who was Loki's.

“You know my methods,” she repeated and saw him arch an eyebrow. “Then please, tell me what you think I should analyze and ferret out?”

“You would allow me to taunt you as I have, to reveal a story before I would compare it against my own. You would be either sympathetic or in this case, unsympathetic in order to get a rise out of me and I would deflect. I would also not deflect and in either case you would get your answer within the deflection and non-deflection of your questioning,” Sleipnir replied, “your methods are interchangeable, adaptable, able to be used on whim or hidden away. I know because I taught you all of it...even showed it to you...”

Natasha barely reacted to the leer that he suddenly gave her, raking her up and down with his eyes. She knew it was a ploy and though a part of her doubted it was true, another part of her did not discount the fact that perhaps it was he who _had_ taught her the finer arts. Yasha, James, had taught her a lot of it during their brief time together, but who was to say that Sleipnir did not have a hand in it, shapeshifting into another person's form. She had no doubts that he was not above perhaps mimicking Yasha, but she also knew from what she had studied that he would not have kept his form for long. No, Sleipnir loved to manipulate things from a certain distance, occasionally getting his hands dirty, but nonetheless stay mostly out of it.

“I get it,” she smiled and sat back, crossing her arms across her chest, “you're exactly like him.”

“A mysterious, 'him',” Sleipnir lifted his fingers and made air quotes, “how utterly useless-”

“Not Baldr,” she interrupted him, “definitely not him. But like Loki. And I mean, not the Crown Prince, but Loki running around here.”

Sleipnir blinked once and shook his head mirthlessly, “Do tell. It is a fascinating analysis you have come up with.”

Natasha pursed her lips and unfolded her arms, sitting forward as she clasped her hands together in front of her, “I've been listening to the tapes of you, even your questioning as Strucker. Do you know what I hear? I hear regret. I hear sorrow.”

“My heart bleeds,” Sleipnir shot back, absently swaying with his chain before he leaned against the concrete wall once more.

“You don't like doing this,” Natasha stared at him, “no actually, you don't care about doing this, but you do care on some level about what's happened.”

“The fall of Asgard is a very big thing to care about,” he replied shortly.

“Yeah, it is,” Natasha replied, “but here's the thing. I only hear sorrow because you knew what was going to happen.”

He arched another eyebrow at her, a clear sarcastic sense that she had done a _brilliant_ job at ferreting out what was not already there. “In the sense that you knew you would have to kill Queen Frigga. And I hear sorrow because you didn't want to do that, even though you knew it was coming.”

“Frigga was in the way,” Sleipnir replied shortly, his icy blue eyes chipped with anger.

“But Odin and the others spared?” she asked with a tilt of her head, “she could have been kept alive, but you deliberately killed her.”

“If you are looking for a confession, yes, I killed her with my own hands. The ravens can confirm it for you as they were the ones who happen upon me over her body after I had stabbed her. I can tell you that she fought, she fought a glorious battle and she would be resting in Valhalla by now if Hel did her job and sent a Valkyrie to collect her. But Hel detests Frigga, so I have no idea if she had done as requested.”

“Like I said, exactly like Loki,” she smiled at him and he frowned, puzzled.

“I am _nothing_ like that whelp of a Jotun-”

“You just want it to end,” she interrupted him again and this time, it got a reaction out of him. He pulled against his chains, glaring at her with a furious look as he bared his teeth in anger.

“I-”

“You're sick of this, sick of everything and I'm thinking that you hoped that the battle would have put you out of your misery, because if you're that close to the royal family, you know that what you just did was anathema. That you killed a member of the royal family and you regret it.”

“...Two...two members,” he hissed quietly.

“Two,” she amended, wondering who the second one was, before giving him a smile full of teeth, “but sorry, we're not going to kill you because you want us to-”

Sleipnir suddenly burst out laughing, an almost hysterically insane quality to it before Natasha turned in her chair to see Loki standing by the door, Gungnir in his hand. The Asgardian's expression was tight with anger, but his eyes blazing with fury. “I think, Agent Romanov,” Sleipnir said in between laughs, “that the decision is not entirely up to you.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dealing with a few real life situations as of late so chapters will be sporadically updated. Many apologies, but happy holidays!


	17. Chapter 17

Loki swiftly crossed the room in quick strides Gungnir leveled towards Sleipnir's neck. The man tilted his head back a little to avoid being skewered, the sound of laughter softly dying away. But the too-wide smile and insane light of his eyes told Loki that Sleipnir still found it amusing. He met those icy blue eyes with a mirthless one of his own. “I have half a mind to actually consider your request Sleipnir,” he said quietly, aware that Romanov had stood up and was watching the two of them, but had not made any overt moves to stop what had happened. He was secretly pleased with her restraint; she understood him on some level. He was glad that when he had first chosen her to watch over him in place of Thor three years ago, it had not been misguided or foolhardy – unlike the rest of the Avengers.

“Then do it,” the other man hissed, attempting to goad him, “what are you waiting for? Give into your baser instincts! I did kill your precious beloved  _ mother _ -”

Loki only snorted quietly as he stared at the mad flame-haired mage who smiled again and shook his head a little, his neck grazing the tip of Gungnir, drawing a thin line of blood.

“No? Would you like me to describe how I approached her, telling her that Asgard's defenses were down, that it was my fault. How she was horrified at my actions, before she drew her sword and attacked when I tried to skewer her from behind? How she flung her meager spells at me-” The chuckle that fell from his lips was giddy-sounding, “I-I can do that, I can tell you all of the details-”

“Summon him,” Loki interrupted, resolutely ignoring Sleipnir's babbling as he tightened his grip on Gungnir. He heard the faint caw of one of the ravens behind him, but did not turn to acknowledge which one it was. He could feel through the thrum of Gungnir's staff that it was Muunin. Huugin was just outside the door, apparently preventing someone from entering, judging by the feel of magick nearby.

“W-What?” Sleipnir blinked, a little thrown from his interruption.

“Summon him,” Loki stated again, staring at the mage, “go on, summon your  _ master _ , familiar.”

The mad laughter immediately died on Sleipnir's lips as his expression instantly closed and his gaze became stony and hard. Loki's smile got a little wider as he nodded and shook his head, “I thought so.” He lowered Gungnir's point a little and took a step back.

“And  _ what _ would you know of it?!” Sleipnir suddenly bit out harshly as he lunged forward. The chains rattled loudly as they restrained him only just. “What the fucking hell would you know of magick when you are  _ nothing _ but a Jotun magister whelp who thinks he's the ultimate power and nothing but a charlatan?! You  _ do not  _ know anything about-”

Loki tightened his grip on Gungnir as he held it parallel to the ground with one hand, “I know enough that your  _ master _ Baldr would have already summoned you twice over if not more. The tugs and bonds that a familiar has with its keeper can not be broken. That you, with your core ripped from you, sustained yourself by giving into the yearning of having one instead of doing what you could have done.”

“And what the fuck could I have done?!” Sleipnir swore in the Midgardian fashion, his teeth bared in anger as he pulled against his restraints again. Loki knew that his words were getting to the other man and knew the reason why they were getting to him. This was not the composed Sleipnir he had met when he had first arrived on Asgard, nor the Sleipnir in the library. He recognized all of the signs and while he knew there was maybe a time long, long ago he would have felt pity, he felt  _ nothing _ for the other man, not even a sense of disgust.

“You think I would succumb to madness?! Like you're going to fucking do with Jormungandr?!”

Loki raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, “And this is not madness?”

“You know nothing, Loki Odinson,” Sleipnir sneered, shaking his head as he pulled on his chains again, taking a few steps forward as Loki stepped back towards the table where Agent Romanov had been sitting to question Sleipnir. “Just you wait, you son of a bitch. You'll understand when one day, you're gonna get a knife in your back or a poisoned blade to your heart because you fucking don't understand the consequences of having your core ripped out. I hope that wherever I am by then, I see Jormungandr doing that to you-”

Loki stared at the man who was starting to spit his words, “You think that by mentioning Jormungandr it would illicit, what? Sympathy? Make me think that I need to do something about him?”

“Muunin gets the danger,” Sleipnir jerked his chin behind Loki and he turned his head a little to see Muunin standing in his human form next to Agent Romanov. “Isn't that right, little raven? Last thing I remembered about you, you were skewered on the end of my father's blade, mortally wounded.” There was a hitching sort of laugh from Sleipnir as he continued, “What? Let me guess, your brother couldn't heal you – he was always pathetically weak in the magickal arts that I have no idea why he was with our coterie. He couldn't heal you and asked Odin to take whatever was left of your heart, use his core to heal it in exchange for serving Odin as his familiar for the end of his days.”

Loki saw that with each word, the human-formed raven's stony look was becoming even stonier and angry. He had never heard of this about the raven familiars of Odin, but it made sense he suppose.

“...My King...” Muunin's words were a strained whisper and Loki glanced down to see the younger-looking man's eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. His nostrils flared with each breath he heaved and his fingers were curled into fists. The matte black feather-like tunic he was wearing was almost rippling with unseen power.

Sleipnir barked out a laugh, “Do you bear that scar? Come on, show it, show it to me! The scar where your heart used to be-”

The red-haired man did not get to finish his words as in that second, something seemingly snapped inside of Muunin and in one blink, his human form was gone, replaced by a raven before in another blink, the human form was back – but with a glinting sharp wicked dagger in his hand as he slashed across Sleipnir's face. It happened so fast that even Loki found himself a little more than impressed at the speed and brutality in which flecks of blood and cuts appeared on Sleipnir. He thought he saw the blur of a talon, though he heard the silent screech of angry wings, and with each blink of his eye, saw Muunin dancing in and out of his animal form, knife occasionally slashing this way and that, but more often than not he could see that it was the  _ talons _ and beak that was cutting at Sleipnir.

“Muunin,” he said just as the raven suddenly appeared with a quiet popping sound and the dagger in his hand was held precariously against one of Sleipnir's eyelids. The other man seemed unaffected by the attack he had just been subjected to, even though blood dripped down from the numerous cuts that had been inflicted on him. In fact, Sleipnir seemed pleased more than anything else as his eyes darted back and forth between the closeness of Muunin and Loki who stood back watching everything.

“My King,” the raven's voice was cold, far more so than the monotone that Loki had ever heard, but it did not bother him.

Instead, he flicked a quick look up at where he thought the observation room was in the cell, wondering if any of the Avengers he was sure had gathered in the interim, was going to say anything. After a few moments of silence, Loki turned his gaze back down to Muunin and Sleipnir once more. He had readily underestimated the new Director of SHIELD if Agent Coulson did not say anything. He would have expected a sarcastic remark from Stark or even a word of protest from the good Captain himself at what had just happened.

He settled his gaze on the raven who stepped back, the dagger that was in his hand flicked away by a quick movement of fingers. The human-formed raven then turned and bowed his head at him, waiting as if he knew what he had just done was grounds for chastisement or punishment. Loki only stared at him some more, waiting for the moment- There! Muunin suddenly drew in a sharp breath

“Odin's anger was also my own, sire,” the raven said quietly before backing away and standing with his head bowed, looking at the ground.

“And yet, I wonder why,” Loki murmured as he turned to stare at Sleipnir and took a step forward. “Summon him,” he said again and saw the red-haired man's chin lift up in defiance. “No?”

Sleipnir did not say anything and only blinked at him as blood dripped down his face from the fresh cuts he had received. Silence reigned between them for a few minutes as Loki studied the former mage. Muunin's actions, though foolhardy and stupid in his opinion, had proven something he had been wondering about for a long time regarding their status as Odin's familiars. That they literally were Odin's eyes and ears and that Odin had some amount of control over them. It had also proven to him that Sleipnir was the same, but even though he had let Muunin try to provoke him, it had done nothing.

He gave a theatrical sigh as he drew the chair that Romanov had been sitting in around the table and sat on it, placing Gungnir on his lap as he absently rolled it in his fingers. “You think there is a choice-”

“There is always a choice,” Sleipnir spat out a wad of blood that had pooled at the corner of his lips, “and I know your ways, Odinson-”

“Yes, but the statement is, you think there is a choice,” Loki waved a dismissive hand at him as he leaned forward and stared at the mage, “when you can easily use the geas you have with Baldr and escape these bonds.”

“They're spelled-” he jangled the chains and the corner of Loki's lips twitched up in an unkind smile.

“And when have they stopped you, Sleipnir?” he asked, rubbing his chin in an absent manner. “Having depleted your magick by arriving in Asgard you easily used the geas you shared with Baldr in an attempt to rid Asgard's defenses of me. Clever, I will give you that, especially since your initial plan failed and you relied upon the fact that I would go gallivanting after my idiotic brother. You might have thought it a noble purpose that I would somehow  _ save _ Thor from your master. But no matter, whatever you thought, the main thing was that I was gone from Asgard, the only one who had surmised your plans and could have warned the Allfather of the invasion from Malekith wielding the Aether and the Dark Elves.”

He met Sleipnir's icy blue eyes with his own, “So why not use that same geas and summon him? Return to him, break the chains of your imprisonment and escape?”

Silence answered him as they stared at each other.

Loki tilted his head to the side, “Agent Romanov was correct; you _knew_ what was to come and yet you let it happen. Now, whatever shreds and remnants of guilt and culpability you have makes you stay here, in the chains you could easily shake if you just simply reach out and use the geas like you had used before.” He stopped rolling Gungnir in his fingers and gripped it, “Summon him. Summon Baldr. The binding of a familiar coupled with the power of the geas gives you such an ability.”

Sleipnir continued to be tight-lipped and silent before he finally opened his mouth. “...No...” his voice was incredibly hoarse, a far cry from the insane laugh and blithe attitude he had displayed only moments ago.

“No?” Loki affected a confused expression.

Sleipnir shook his head violently, flecks of blood spraying into the air. “...No...I won't...I...can't...you...can't make me...” Sweat suddenly beaded across his face as it mingled with the blood before the other man closed his eyes and shuddered, his form twitching and jerking a little. He opened his eyes again and stared at the ground, as if it was the only thing in his world.

The intercom clicked, “Loki, what-”

Loki held up a hand, sensing Agent Romanov moving behind him and also to forestall anything Coulson was going to say as Sleipnir shuddered some more before finally looking up at him.

“Not so pleasant, is it not, fighting a geas?” he asked conversationally.

“Y-You should...know,” Sleipnir choked out, his voice still hoarse before he chuckled weakly, “I heard there were stitchings-” His breath stuttered a little and he grimaced, “-involved w-with yours...”

Loki resisted the urge to rub his lips where he could feel the beginnings of rough thread almost pressing on his lips, forcing him to speak through the blood and pain at anything. Instead, he pressed them tightly to rid himself of the phantom touch and watched as Sleipnir suddenly sagged against his chains. The mage's head almost hit the concrete ground if it was not for the fact that his arms held a majority of his body's weight. He took it as his cue to rise from his seat and walked forward, kneeling in front of the red-haired mage as he leveled Gungnir's point again underneath the other man's chin.

Loki deliberately brought the other man's head up and this close, he could clearly see the signs of exhaustion, of bruises and sharp cuts. All geas made had a punishment mechanism built into it, and he supposed that Sleipnir's was perhaps slowly draining the vitality and life out of him. He could see a myriad of emotions swirling in the other man's icy blue eyes felt a stab of anger rise in him It would have been so easy to skewer Sleipnir through at that moment, but he restrained himself. “Baldr,” he stated, “I know you can hear me even though you've left your puppet. It seems my brother is still useful for keeping your attention divided. I will find you, and you will answer for your crimes against Asgard and the House of Odin.”

Loki stood up and thumped the end of Gungnir onto the ground, feeling the wash of power rush through him at the binding command as the current ruler of Asgard. Task done, he turned and saw Agent Romanov looking at him with an unreadable gaze while Muunin kept his head bowed. Ignoring her, he took a few steps towards the door when he heard the jangle of chains behind him and paused.

“...Kill me...please...” Sleipnir whispered in a broken tone, “...kill me before anyone else dies because of me...”

Loki stared at the door for a moment before shrugging, “No.” He took another step forward-

“I didn't mean any of it! I didn't- Please kill me! I want to die! I didn't mean to kill her, I didn't mean it! I couldn't-”

Loki did not even bother to listen to anymore of the mage's words as he stepped out of the door, Romanov and Muunin following him. He could hear the other man laughing and crying at the same time, having finally broken down over his actions as the door slid shut behind them. There was perhaps a time he would have killed him in revenge for his mother's death, but Loki was not feeling charitable. He heard the faint caw of Muunin as he perched himself on the tip of Gungnir, having changed back into a raven. Another soft echoing caw answered him and Loki saw Huugin flying towards them, Jormungandr not far behind. He watched as Huugin settled onto a lower perch on Gungnir before tilting his avian head up to Muunin in a silent question to which the other raven cawed and ruffled his feathers a little. Huugin only dug a beak into his brother's tail in harsh affection.

“Loki,” Jormungandr spoke up, bringing his attention around to him as he caught Romanov staring at the ravens like he had. He could feel the tell-tale sign of healing magick all over Jormungandr and frowned.

“You wasted the magick,” he stated and saw the younger man flinch.

“I drank poison,” the young Healer admitted with a small grimace, “it took the rest to get it out of my system. I promise I will not do that again and let it run its course-”

“What is it,” Loki could clearly see that Jormungandr had approached with the intention of speaking about something else and brushed past his fumbling apology. He did not need another groveling at him, it was bothersome and sycophantic.

“There's another-” Jormungandr stopped speaking and his eyes darted to the side just as Loki saw the rest of the Avengers arriving.

He had been right; they had all been watching in the observation room above the cell. He arched an eyebrow at the young mage, but Jormungandr shook his head rapidly, unwilling to say what he wanted to say in front of the others. That piqued Loki's curiosity – Jormungandr almost never wanted to speak in secret, especially since they had arrived. He had deliberately left him with the Avengers along with the bag of healing stones and some borrowed magick to see what he would do with it while he and Dr. Banner explored options to find Thor and Baldr. He spied upon Jormungandr's conversation with Sleipnir earlier through the use of Gungnir and the ravens, and had not been disappointed that the mage had revealed that he was a son of Thanos and thus Sleipnir's half brother with several thousand of years in between them. Jormungandr was not one to hide anything from the Avengers, so this development was new.

“I think it's safe to say that Sleipnir, Strucker, whomever he is, has officially gone off his rocker,” Stark said sarcastically as he yawned and stretched his arms wide.

“You got a plan, Loki?” it was Captain Rogers that had spoken up and he glanced at the man who was holding his shield loosely in his hand. He was a little more than surprised to see the metal-armed man shadowing him, having not been previously seen near the Captain at all or anywhere else save for the brief moment he was outside watching everything with a cool-eyed gaze.

“I would think it obvious by keeping Sleipnir alive that you would be overjoyed to hear that Baldr can just barely control Thor,” he replied and saw a small frown appear on the Captain's face. That was not the answer he was expecting, but Loki was not inclined to answer him.

“It's good,” Coulson spoke up next to the Captain, “but also doesn't get us anywhere. I'm presuming that your little stunt to try to get Sleipnir to use his geas to summon Baldr here's not going to work?”

“It will work,” Loki shrugged, “only if Sleipnir is compelled to let it-”

“Okay,” Coulson held up a hand, “hold on there. If you mean by compelled, it's cold-blooded torture, that's fine-”

“Wait, what?!” Stark protested and Loki could see Banner and the dark-skinned winged man behind them all blinking in shock. Amusingly, he saw Barton and Romanov nod their heads a little bit at the Director's words. Captain Rogers had a frown on his face while the metal-armed man's was coolly indifferent.

“Coulson, we're not-”

“And fine in the sense that if Sleipnir really was himself, we'd treat him like himself,” Coulson overrode whatever protests fell from Stark's lips, “but what you're suggesting is to use the geas, a method that's pretty barbaric and cruel to get to Baldr and Thor. I don't think that if Thor knew about this-”

“How little you know of geas, Director, even back then and now,” he sneered at them, “it  _ is _ a cruel method. It is barbaric. Why in the Nornforsaken realms do you think it was outlawed?! It is  _ blood _ magick and it is binding the soul to the agreement with another person. It is able to be compelled, to be used, to have it used against you, to have it use for you. Only those desperate enough would do such a thing! That desperation leads to such a hunger that they would use such magick to bind their souls to another and force obedience into whatever made such a geas contract!”

He laughed bitterly, “You should count yourselves lucky that Fury was so ignorant about the geas and its true power in what it can do. That he was able to make not one, but two without minimal consequence!”

“And you were being generous, hah!” Stark crowed in an ugly tone, “fucking fat chance Loki.”

“And you were that desperate?” Coulson leveled him with a look that Loki did not like. He knew that Coulson was referring to the geas he had made with Thanos and ignored it, as he shook the ravens off of Gungnir. They flapped and flew into the air before he heard the faint pop of them transforming into their human forms.

“Desperation is like the black abyss,” he shot back as he blindly extended his hand out. Moments later, he felt Jormungandr's familiar weight slithering up his hand and arm before the snake curled around his shoulder and settled his head near by. “Sleipnir is not desperate enough.”

“I have to agree,” Romanov spoke up, bringing everyone's gaze to her, “he's got a point. Sleipnir wants to die, but if we leave him be, he'll give up Baldr's location, with or without the geas in him. Maybe he'll be even more desperate and use the geas as a locator or something so we can actually find Baldr.”

“Or use it to escape,” Huugin muttered none too loudly behind him and Loki glanced at the raven who was standing shoulder to shoulder next to Muunin. This close together, he could easily see family resemblance between the two, the small narrow faces, though Huugin was more heart-shaped than Muunin's rat-like angular face.

“Wait, he can use it to escape? But I thought those chains-”

“You planted something on him,” Romanov interrupted the dark-skinned man who had mechanized wings, as she stared at Muunin who met her gaze unblinkingly and gave a small nod.

“Clever spider,” the raven's voice had returned to the same monontone, but Loki could still hear the undercurrent of guilt in it after his earlier actions.

“Want to fill us in on what we might be expecting when, not if, but when Baldr shows up here or we find him or whatever happens?” Coulson asked and Loki saw the ravens look at him.

He shrugged before waving an absent hand at them as he turned and started to walk away. He did not care for whatever history the ravens wished to spill about the House of Bor. It was not his concern. Baldr was weakened, that was all he needed to know, and there was nothing to fear by whatever tales of yore the ravens wanted to spin to the rest of the Avengers. And if Baldr was weakened it meant that he himself had a chance... As he walked further away from the small group, he reached up and absently pressed his fingers to the corner of his lips, feeling the rough feel of stitches against his fingers. He pulled his fingers away and saw the small spots of blood on them before he watched it disappear, the faint glamour of spellwork doing its job.

Time was running out.

* * *

Natasha could not help but feel that something was off about Loki as he walked away from them. It felt like he was starting to look over his shoulder at something they could not see, but he could see in all of its ugly glory. There was something familiar about it, but she could not pinpoint it as she turned her attention back to the ravens who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with each other. She could not help the faint amusement at such a gesture, a very avian-like one, but looked odd when they were in their human forms. In terms of behavior, birds pressed against each other for body-heat warmth, but also for protection and comfort. It was also a way for avians to communicate without resorting to loud caws, chirps, and cries that could be heard by others.

Her thoughts were echoed a moment later when both turned to look at each other, almost nose-to-nose by how close they were to each other before as one, they seemed to come to an agreement and turned to face the rest of them.

“We will speak of this,” Muunin gestured with a hand towards them, “however, we require your discretion.”

“Asgard's dirty laundry,” Natasha heard Clint mutter none too loudly behind all of them and made a quick motion with her left fingers on her right shoulder blade –  _ asshole _ – in the most endearing sense and heard the faint snort of laughter from James who had also caught the intended message to Clint.

“Will the common room do? I get the feeling this is gonna be a long one,” Coulson asked and the ravens nodded before turning and heading towards the common area.

They all followed, Stark immediately heading to the open bar to make himself something while Natasha settled herself on one of the loveseats as the others also sat down. She was not surprised to see James standing by the wall in the farthest corner, almost hiding in the shadows behind them, foregoing the comforts of the couches and chairs in the common area. However, she was surprised to see Steve sitting so near James and even with his back towards him. A small smile appeared on her lips at the sight – it seemed like James had made even more progress since their return from Karpov's base. Unsurprisingly, Sam sat next to Steve, though he stole a couple of looks towards where Stark was pouring himself a drink as well as making a communal pot of coffee. She supposed that Sam was considering whether or not he needed a drink at this ungodly morning hour.

Bruce had taken a couch near her and Natasha automatically curled her feet inward as Clint unceremoniously flopped down on the cushion next to her, his fingers absently fiddling with his bow. He was frowning at something and Natasha followed his gaze to where a glass was sitting on the coffee table next to the bag of healing stones that Jormungandr had been working on.

“Uh, I wouldn't touch it,” Clint warned as she tentatively reached over. She glanced at him. “Hel was here, fucking with the kid's head. Kind of poisoned him or something. Kind of sucked that it didn't kill him, but I don't know if whatever he drank extends to the glass.”

“Is that why my shield was here?” Steve asked and Clint shrugged.

“I ain't saying no to the ruler of dead-people land when she asks that I put something here and there,” Clint replied.

“Hel asked you to take my shield and put it half underneath Jormungandr?” Steve looked confused.

“Yep,” Clint shrugged, “don't know why, don't even wanna ask. Also don't want to know how the hell- er, how the heck she was able to leave her realm this time either. My guess, Loki, that fucker.”

“Your shield has magick-imbued properties and Jormungandr lacks a core. His recovery would have been shortened with a magick-imbued object next to him,” Muunin suddenly spoke up, his head tilted like a bird, “did you not know this, Captain Rogers? It is why it has protected you for all these years. That same magick is in your companion's arm. Nidhogg's scales are rare and very hard to come by.”

“Uh, it's made out of vibranium,” Tony spoke up as he walked over with two drinks in hand and dropped one off next to Sam who looked a little happier before taking a seat and a sip of his own drink. “Coffee's in the pot if anyone wants some. Salt's on the second shelf.” His last comment was directed to James whom Natasha had learned liked his coffee with salt in it instead of sugar. It was a very United States Navy style, which completely clashed with the fact that James had served in the Army. She wondered if it was a taste he had acquired when he became the Winter Soldier.

“Nidhogg's scales,” Muunin repeated, “your vibranium. Rarely does she shed her scales and sends them into the abyss of Yggdrasil as meteors of metal and magick.”

“Nidhogg's a really large dragon in the Norse myths,” Coulson stated, looking a little bewildered, “even I have a hard time believing that a  _ dragon _ of all things, exists.” He smiled bracingly at Steve, “Kind of read up on Norse myths after everything.”

Steve gave a small shrug, indicating that he did not mind that someone else was taking the lead on the whole Norse mythology thing and Natasha hid a smile as she ducked her head a little. It was like Couslon to read up on the Norse myths after discovering that Steve was a huge mythology buff. To her, it made sense in the fact that growing up skinny and bullied by those larger than himself, he looked up to the heroes and myths of old to at least get himself lost in some childhood fantasy before the realities of the world set in. She tilted her head a little as she glanced at James out of the corner of her eyes and wondered if James knew as much as Steve regarding mythology, heroes, and stories. It would seem prudent, but he had not really spoken up about any of this since Loki had arrived. The fact that he seemed unfazed, even by her critical eye and knowledge of his habits, lent credence to her thoughts, but then again, she also knew that James had a very dry and wicked sense of humor and would keep quiet just to see if Steve would dig himself into a metaphoric hole or not.

The ravens looked at one another, silently communicating as Natasha watched them. For all intents and purposes, one could not even discern the slightest movement, nor even a hint of what was spoken in their eyes, but just then, she caught the barest movement from Huugin – what looked like the tiniest shrug. However, the movement was gone in the blink of an eye before the ravens turned back to look at them, having come to a silent agreement of sorts.

“For our extensive knowledge and lore, even we do not know what Nidhogg is,” Muunin admitted.

“Not even Odin?” Natasha jumped in and saw both ravens look at her. She met their dead-eye stares with a placid one of her own and saw the tilt of their heads in the same direction – which looked disconcertingly odd – but she supposed it made sense considering that they were brothers and ravens.

“The Allfather does not speak my words, little spider,” Muunin's shoulders hunched forward a little bit; whether out of guilt for what he had done to Sleipnir or the fact that he had lost control of himself when the ravens had been shown to be utterly unflappable and nonplussed before, she did not know. However, she felt a little relieved to see that even the ravens were not immune to such behaviors nor were they unaffected by what had happened in the last day or so. She supposed that it could be a remnant of their Court upbringing, being close to the royal family and all, but it comforted her to some degree.

“We know she resides in the deepest levels of Helheim, near the roots of Yggdrasil. Lady Hel would not respond to our inquiries regarding Nidhogg, even by Court order,” Muunin explained with a flat look at everyone. Natasha suspected that it was how he always looked, having forgotten what it was to be expressive after however many thousands of years of being in a raven's form.

“This Nidhogg got anything to do with what's going on?” Bruce asked, rubbing his chin as he leaned back against the chair he was sitting in. He looked tired and Natasha wondered if he had slept at all or had just gone down to the basement to work out some of whatever frustration and anger he had been feeling lately as the Hulk. She was betting the latter rather than the former.

“All associates of Thanos bear extensive watch,” Huugin spoke up, his tone unusually sharp and angry, “and more often than not, they are disposed of.”

“You mean, they're killed,” Steve spoke up from where he sat as Muunin turned sharply to his brother, who met his look with the same visibly sharp angry one before something seemed to deflate and the raven reverted back to his neutral expression.

“Thanos is a plague upon the House of Bor and the House of Odin since time immemorial,” Muunin explained, “anything or anyone associated with Thanos has been watched by those who know what he is capable of and what manner of madness he can induce in others.”

“Bidden to watch over?” Banner asked and Natasha shot him a look to which the scientist gave her a small shrug. She nodded and looked at the ravens and saw Muunin's lips twitch a little in what looked like a smile directed at Bruce.

“Insomuch as what the Allfather had commanded three years previous,” Muunin acknowledged, “tis well that you remember such words, Dr. Banner. It was something we had not anticipated nor realized until it was too late for the previous Crown Prince as he fell into madness as part of Thanos' scheme.”

“The Infinity Stones, gems, whatever the heck those things are that we saw in your little illusion trip,” Sam interjected from the corner, “Bor and Thanos, they were rivals and allies?”

“Yes,” the human-formed raven replied, “Asgard is a race of conquerors. We conquered.”

“Using the Infinity stones,” Tony took another sip of his drink, pursing his lips together, “that's just great.”

“You would do the same, you did the same when Prince Loki arrived three years previous did you not, Tony Stark? Director Coulson? SHIELD used the Space Gem in an attempt to produce weapons to defend itself-”

“HYDRA-”

“And your Centipede Project-'

“That's not SHIELD, that was HYDRA-”

“But you allowed them to grow like a parasite...was Dr. Zola's words if I am not mistaken-”

“That's-” Natasha could see Phil's expression close before he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That's true, and yes, we should have known, but I feel like it's the pot calling kettle black for you guys.”

Surprisingly, instead of the defensive and arrogance she expected from the ravens, considering the Allfather's lack of communication at times along with the fact that Asgard's opinion of Midgard was akin to a whimsical fantasy at times – Thor not withstanding – the raven instead gave them a broad smile. “You are correct, Director,” Muunin replied and Natasha realized that while Odin might have held them in contempt, especially during the treatise, treaty, whatever it was called, made two years ago, the ravens had completely different opinions about them. That was interesting, yet she dared not say it was refreshing. She knew the others probably had a different opinion than her.

“When the conquering was finished, the Dark Elves of Svartlheim sent into the darkness, the Jotun magisters purged and a new ruling class installed, Bor Allfather had known Thanos to seek the other stones elsewhere and make war with others. He expected the Mad Titan to perish in the attempt at reclaiming the other three Infinity Stones against the Mind Gem he held,” Muunin started quietly and to Natasha's surprise, she found herself tensing a little, wondering if they were going to see more things that they could not turn away from. But when nothing seemed to materialize in front of her eyes, she found herself relaxing.

“No visual aids this time?” Tony spoke up, thinking along the same lines and Muunin gave them a flat look before continuing.

“The Allfather did not expect Thanos to turn his gaze towards Asgard itself and claim the Infinity Stone that was in its possession, the Tesseract known as the Space Gem. We do not know when it had started, but my brother happened upon a chance conversation between Sleipnir and the Crown Prince, the current Loki's namesake.”

“Happened upon?”

Muunin stared at Clint who had a disbelieving look on his face, but it was Bruce who answered Clint's question, “Clint, look at their outfits...they were Court...pages? Right? Messengers? They're probably ignored or not even seen if the Court was anything like what we encountered.”

Muunin nodded once, “Even after we were accepted into the coterie of the Crown Prince and his brothers. It was the only capacity my brother could serve in and I served along side him.”

“You're a warrior,” Natasha narrowed her eyes fractionally as she remembered how fast the raven had moved in his furious attack against Sleipnir. The raven turned his dead-eyed look on her and blinked once.

“Muunin was and still is one of the best...Lord of Swords to Lady Sif's Lady of Swords,” Huugin suddenly spoke up, his voice quiet, almost shy and all of them turned to see the raven blink a few times before ducking his head, as if he did not want the attention as he suddenly stepped behind his brother, seemingly hiding from them.

Something seemed to spark in the other raven's dead-eye gaze before it disappeared and he continued as if nothing had been revealed, “My brother happened upon a chance conversation between Sleipnir and the Crown Prince on an errand for the youngest prince Baldr. The conversation was of Sleipnir's father Thanos and of the Crown Prince's willingness to help his adopted son put to rest the madness he thought Thanos was wrecking havoc upon the realms outside of the Nine.

“It seemed the Crown Prince had cautioned him not to, to not rush into such things and to act with caution. Baldr was told of this conversation as we served all three Princes with equal aplomb. The coterie had to bee unified under the Crown Prince's rule, with his brothers supporting him and eliminating any and all resistances to the Crown Prince's eventual rise to Allfather. As was custom to eliminate any and all obstacles that may arise during the Crown Prince's eventual ascent, we suspected Baldr dealt with Thanos or at least confronted him with Sleipnir.

“He and Sleipnir returned and told those at Court the matter was at a rest. But we should have known that Baldr wished for power, wished for the throne, third in line to two powerful brothers, Loki and Odin. At best, he would be made Adviser or perhaps Archmage of the whole of Asgard. Sleipnir's assurance as the Crown Prince's adopted son meant that he would already have a successor and even then, Odin was a formidable warrior and popular with the rest of the Court.

“We initially suspected that it had been Sleipnir's fault, because he was a son of Thanos and thus there was something in his blood, in his parentage that made him wholly unnatural. But it seems we were wrong in light of this new information regarding Baldr. It was years after the chance conversation that the Crown Prince began to go mad. Perhaps it was a geas made that we know nothing about, a geas influenced by the Mind Gem Thanos wielded. Little by little, the Crown Prince began to accuse Baldr of an attempted coup, of betraying the coterie and of taking power for himself. Perhaps it was not madness more so the truth buried underneath the guise of madness.

“The fight came to a head on the Bifrost, when the Crown Prince attacked Baldr who had been traveling with Freyr and Freya as they had dealt with rogue elements on Nidelheim. Both were slain as was Baldr. We now see that it might have been the power of the Mind Gem blinding us to the obvious that he had survived. My brother was sent to summon the rest of the coterie while Sleipnir, myself, Odin, and Heimdall were sent to confront the Crown Prince on his terrible deed.”

The raven took a deep breath, his eyes seemingly taking on a far away gaze, “The battle was fierce, even for three warriors such as ourselves and Sleipnir, a mage taught by the Crown Prince himself. The Crown Prince was right to call himself a magister even though he was not one by blood. He was right to call himself one of Asgard's conquerors as we were such a race.

“When it came to deal the final blow, Sleipnir begged for his father's mercy, to spare him for his deed of slaying his youngest brother Baldr. But Odin loved Baldr and thought it magick, years of studies, years of acquiring such a dangerous power that had corrupted his older brother Loki. Odin thought it be more merciful to slay the Crown Prince than to let the madness continue. And so Odin attacked. Sleipnir defended his father, defended his absolute loyalty to the Crown Prince. We clashed and in the ensuing battle, the Crown Prince took advantage of our division. I was felled, as the others of the coterie arrived. Lady Frigga attempted to battle her way through, but the Crown Prince was too clever, too powerful.”

The raven gave a wistful smile at them as he stared at a point on the ground, “If there was one thing Sleipnir has said that was true, it is sorrow he feels for killing the Queen. He had loved her, had been set to be her betrothed. He attempted to save Frigga and took a fatal blow for her.” His body shook a little and Natasha realized that it was the avian equivalent of a bird ruffling its feathers, “The Crown Prince was far more powerful than any of us realized and when he mortally wounded Sleipnir, it had broken the profession of absolute loyalty, of fealty that a son of Thanos supposedly has. Sleipnir reacted on instinct and killed his father, the Crown Prince at the same time Heimdall cleaved him in half.

“With his dying breaths, the Crown Prince told Bor Allfather and Odin one name that had started all of this, Thanos,” Muunin pressed his lips into a thin line, “Asgard went to war again, this time against Thanos. We conquered and Bor Allfather sacrificed himself to imprison Thanos into the shadows of Yggdrasil. Odin became Allfather, Frigga his Queen.”

Natasha stared at the young man – who in reality was not so young as he looked – and she realized that the dead-eyed gaze that he and his brother always had was truly dead. If what Sleipnir had said in his rambling earlier, coupled with what Muunin had just said earlier regarding the fact that he was mortally wounded to the point of almost dying on the Bifrost; it meant that the two were actually dead. Only alive because they were Odin's familiars; Odin's eyes and ears in the very literal sense. They were kept alive due to whatever magick fueled them even though it seemed that Odin was a warrior through and through.

“Certainly explains why magic is such a hush-hush taboo subject on Asgard,” Bruce commented softly before looking up at the ravens, “do you really believe that Baldr has a geas with Thanos like Loki, er, this Loki does? Like he has with Sleipnir?”

“I do not know,” Muunin answered, “I only speculate with this new information given. For a long time we believe Baldr to be innocent, to have been a victim of the Crown Prince's madness, but now...”

“You mentioned that Crown Prince Loki was a mage and Odin was a warrior, but you didn't say what Baldr was,” Coulson spoke up, “what is he?”

“Would the healing stones be not obvious?” Muunin gestured to the bag that Jormungandr had been fiddling with earlier, “he was a member of the royal family and had access to the teachings his brothers had. Baldr was and still is a magister.”

“Who's mind-controlling Thor with the Mind Gem,” Tony spoke up, his voice on edge and thin smile on his face, “you said it, Asgard's a race of conquerors.”

“Yeah, but he's not conquering anything at the moment,” Steve pointed out, “I mean, if he's got Thor, got the sceptre, he's got everything he needs to level us, level the Earth. All he's done is show up and disappear in Union Square and we find out Asgard's been leveled by the Dark Elves and the Aether-”

“The Reality Gem,” Muunin interjected.

“-but the question becomes, what is he waiting for?” Steve shook his head, “Or maybe not. You said that he was presumed dead and fell from the Bifrost right? It means he was probably more than likely wounded, right?”

“His blood was on the Bifrost, as was his body, however an illusion it may have been,” Muunin answered with a curt nod.

“I see what you're getting at Steve,” Sam nodded, “and yeah, seems a little odd. If he's that powerful, he could have, hate to say it, but really dug us six feet under when Tony and I were there. But he didn't. He just messed with our minds, trying to reclaim his weapon when if he really wanted Thor, he probably could have led the assault on London himself and get at Thor.”

“But wouldn't that have alerted Heimdall or something?” Bruce asked.

“Before Asgard fell, Heimdall said that he could not see into those who would cloak themselves in shadow,” Muunin explained.

“So he's, what, waiting?” Clint crossed his arms across his chest and absently fiddled with his bow that was slung across his lap. She heard the quiet whirrl and click of his arrow pack rotating through its arrowheads.

“I don't think Baldr can actually do _anything_ ,” Steve slowly shook his head, “I think Loki's right; Baldr's just barely controlling Thor and its taking all of his mind and effort to do so. He can't do anything else. Maybe that's why he's been trying to summon Sleipnir back with the geas – so that he can send _him_ to do something.”

“Then the question becomes, why hasn't Sleipnir done something _here_ ,” Natasha spoke up.

“Because he already has,” Natasha had not even _heard_ Jormungandr arrive and looked up to see the dark-haired man with the same icy blue eyes as Sleipnir staring at all of them, his hands clasped in front of him. Beyond him, she saw James staring at him from the shadows. When he had moved, she did not know, but she allowed herself the lapse in observation due to the short amount of sleep she had in between all of the chaos that had happened in recent days. Jormungandr looked like he was warring with something, but seemingly took a deep breath and let it out. “Loki surmised that the reason why Baldr has not done anything was that he was waiting for Gungnir. My mast-um, Loki's gone to confront him.”

“How?! He got Sleipnir to-” Coulson stood up from his chair in alarm as did Natasha and the others. She was surprised that Loki was able to convince Sleipnir to use the geas when the other man clearly did not want to.

“No,” Jormungandr shook his head before pointing to Steve's shield, “Loki had me scry my mother's scales. They are the only objects in the world that are able to contain the power of an Infinity Stone. The Infinity gauntlet, the sceptre, the Bifrost, all of it has an element of Nidhogg's scales that can channel the power of an Infinity Stone without destroying its user.”

“Loki...” the younger man grimaced a little before seemingly squaring his shoulders, his expression resolute, “I am not beholden to his wishes nor am his familiar, so I give you this in good faith for my own reasons. These are the coordinates that I was able to scry to Baldr's location.” He presented them with a scrap piece of paper and Natasha could see the unspoken request for them to save Loki because there was a very good chance he was walking right into a trap.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had mental head casting for Freyr and Freya, but since Cate Blanchett is potentially in talks for a role in the actual “Thor: Ragnarok” movie, I'm going to kind of leave Freya not cast. Also, that's the full backstory for Odin's coterie in a nutshell. Things were...crazy back then and I hope it explains a little more about Odin's mindset regarding magic in Asgard.


	18. Chapter 18

 

Loki walked several levels down to where Sif had been placed in the medical wing. When he arrived at her room, he felt Jormungandr slither off of his arm and fall to the floor with a quiet plop. A second later, he heard him take a deep breath next to him, having reverted to his human form. “Speak,” he commanded as he stared at Sif's unmoving, but breathing form from the observation window.

“There is...another way, Loki,” Jormungandr sounded hesitant. Through the reflection of the observation window, he could see the young man with his head bowed, his fingers clasped in front of him whenever he was nervous or hesitant. “You don't have to use your geas, or the Infinity Stones-- I can scry, Loki, I can scry...my mother's scales,” his words devolved into a barely discernible murmur.

Loki was silent for a few seconds as he considered Jormungandr's words. “The sceptre,” he stated as he saw the young Healer's reflection nod. “The only thing in the world that can hold the power of an Infinity Stone without killing it's wielder.”

“...Yes...” Jormungandr whispered.

Loki studied his reflection for a long moment. He could see the minute quaking of his form, the shudders that the young mage tried hard to suppress. There was a very good reason why Jormungandr was utterly terrified of the prospect. He feared his mother more than his sire Thanos. For good reason; as Loki had only heard of the stories of Nidhogg, who was technically not a dragon as many had thought, but rather was lamia-like. Nidhogg was not a lamia per se, but she predated a lot of the myths and histories he had read in the library and for something, someone to have lived that long... Loki had a healthy respect for magick and the unknowns of the universe – until they crossed him like Thanos – but he also knew that it had been Fenrir who had rescued Jormungandr from Nidhogg. At least that was what either was willing to share and say no more of it. He had not actively listened in on the ravens' conversation with the rest of the Avengers, but he was peripherally aware that they knew next to nothing about Nidhogg. While it would have surprised him and given him a sense of twisted pleasure that not even the great and powerful supposed all-knowing Allfather had any knowledge of Nidhogg, it was not his primary concern at the moment.

“What are the consequences?” he asked Jormungandr who stiffened and blinked.

“None-”

“You lie,” he cut him off and saw the younger man's reflection shake his head violently.

“I do not,” he said before grimacing and looking away, “I...I don't...like the feel of it...that's all...nothing of consequence. Just...it...”

“You are not a child anymore,” he gave him a hard stare that was clearly reflected off of the observation window.

“I-I know...” Jormungandr bowed his head a little, ashamed and Loki pressed his lips thinly together. He saw the former mage square his shoulders, mentally pulling himself together before opening his eyes once more, “I apologize, my King. It was of childish whim that had overtaken the fear inside me for a moment. It will not happen again.”

Loki only stared at Jormungandr's reflection for a moment before pulling at the skeins of the spaces-in-between and drew out Gungnir from the shadowy folds. He could feel the sheer power and weave of magicks of the Nine that empowered Gungnir. This was the power of the Allfather, the ruler and conqueror of Asgard and the Nine Realms. There was no jewel on its crown, but he knew that in his capacity as King and regent of Asgard, he could easily utilize its power. It was not an Infinity Stone, but he had a feeling that like the Casket of Ancient Winters, Gungnir was forged by Infinity Stones – more than likely the Tesseract itself considering that it was one of two keys to power the Bifrost. Though he did not know for certain if Nidhogg's scales, vibranium, was involved in its creation, he did not readily discount it.

The only issue was that he had absolutely no idea what would happen if a magick force like scrying was applied to it. Gungnir was only wielded by those who ruled Asgard and those alone. No other was permitted to wield it unless given permission, mentally or verbally. It was a binding magick of sorts, akin to Thor's Mjolnir. Thor, for all of his idiocy had not even _tried_ to understand what bound Mjolnir to him, but rather had just used it plainly – as if he had been taught the basics in an instruction book of sorts. The only thing that he had gotten – and even then Loki doubted Thor truly understood – was that Mjolnir was able to be lifted up by those who were _worthy_. He had never gotten a chance to understand what Mjolnir's inscriptions meant by 'worthy', Thor constantly keeping his hammer close to him like a security blanket of sorts.

Gungnir had the same principles, but Loki could clearly feel the thrum of a more deadly application if those who had not been given permission were holding it. He supposed it was a saving grace of sorts that Sif had not realized what she was actually holding when Odin had given her Gungnir to give to him; had not realized that she technically could have ruled Asgard and be none the wiser. Still, as he resumed his watch over her shallowly-breathing form, perhaps it was for the best. She had suffered gravely in the battle against Malekith's forces and he was content to leave her at peace for now. She did her duty to the House of Odin with the utmost regard and proved her loyalty to him instead of recklessly trying to find Thor again.

“Loki-”

Loki released Gungnir from his hands and stored it back into the spaces-in-between. There was another way. He turned his head slightly to face Jormungandr, “Find the metal-armed man that shadows the Captain and bring him here.”

“I shall be discreet,” he was pleased that Jormungandr understood his request as he bowed his head and hurried away.

Loki was not remiss in noticing that Jormungandr had heeded his request to not involve the Avengers as much as possible – hence the recently private conversation. It pleased him that Jormungandr had obeyed his requests instead of expecting him to be more Thor-like and involving the others. He knew that he could have easily asked for the Captain's shield, but he was aware of what the metal-armed man had done in the Avengers' training room and appreciated it. The metal-armed man had proven that he was far more adept at the shadows and masking his presence than if Jormungandr was to ask for the Captain's shield. Asking for Rogers' shield was only inviting the Avengers to stick their unwanted noses into his attempt to search for Baldr and Thor. Once he dealt with Baldr, he would be free to pursue his real goal without his idiotic brother hampering him by being under Baldr's control. The fact that Baldr was expending all of his mental efforts into controlling Thor bode well for Loki. He knew it would make it easier to deal with Baldr. At least Thor was putting his stubborn and one-track mind to good use in making Baldr's life a living hell of sorts.

Breathing out a quiet sigh, he stepped away from the window and entered Sif's room proper, the door hissing closed behind him as he took a moment to study her prone form. The room smelled of a faint sour odor, the same smell he recognized when he had been on the Helicarrier's medical ward after Fenrir had savaged his arm. He could feel the faint basic skeins of magick that permeated the air, but they were not the advance threads that he was used to on Asgard. The mortals had only begun to advance their sciences and understanding of healing magick and Loki grimaced. At this rate, it would take _weeks_ for Sif to heal and even then, he could smell the beginnings of corruption in the air.

Healing magick was never his forte; leaving the intricacies of poison and healing to Jormungandr, but he did know a few simple spells – enough to at least take the threads of corruption away. He sent forth a burst of magick and could instantly see Sif's body respond to the greedy feel of healing magick as it unconsciously heaved a breath before settling once more. There was barely a change in the monitors that continued their steady incessant beeping, but Loki could feel a definitive change in the air. Sif would recover.

Satisfied with his work, Loki took a small step back and stared at her; unconsciously tracing her pale, sunken face. There was a slash that ran parallel across her jawline and he knew that a scar would form after she finished healing. Many of the female courtiers he knew would have been appalled at the fact of a potential scar on their face; preferring to have scars covered by clothing or uncovered in the intimacy of pillow talks. But he knew Sif would wear her's proudly. She was first and foremost a warrior, a lady of the Court a distant second. It was why he had long tolerated her, even in the company of Thor's other friends. She, like him, did not really care for the Court's whispers of non-conformity, and instead, defied it. The only difference was that the Court responded well to her warrior-oriented mind instead of his magick and spellcasting.

Still, she was one of the very few that he acknowledged knew him somewhat better. She did not know him the best, but the fact that she had been ordered by the Allfather to 'watch him' three years previous was not lost on him. He had figured out what the Allfather's orders to Thor, his mother, and the Warriors Three and Lady Sif had been since imprisoning Thanos in the Tesseract. The Allfather had been aware that any attempt on Thanos' part to manipulate and influence him would be instantly recognized as out of character for him by those who knew him the best. The problem was, most of Asgard did not know him, and thought every single one of his words, plans, schemes, gestures and so forth was out of character. It had been up to those who knew him well that had been 'bidden to watch him.'

And now...

“I am about to do something that if you had been 'bidden' to watch me, Sif, you would think it be typical, yet atypical of my manner and habits,” he murmured quietly to her prone form. His eyes traced her for any sign or response that she had heard him, but did not discern anything.

“You would have called it reckless,” he continued softly, “maybe...Thor-like...that stupid idiot brother of mine.” _He_ himself did not think it was reckless, but he was also aware that Sif always rolled their her eyes on some of their foolhardy plans back when they were young. There had always been more than one comment about who was a bad influence on the other. Loki liked to think that it was Thor who was the idiot and it was his plans that got them out of more than one scrape during their adventures; but that naivety and innocence had been quashed long ago.

“Sif...” Loki took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “you cannot stop me. Maybe once, maybe long ago. But not this time... If this succeeds and even if it does not, Thor will need you. After all, Asgard needs its King...not a conquering monster to rule in its stead.”

He fell silent, staring at her pale form and the even breaths she took under the blanket covering her. Sif would be a fine Queen one day, a good match for Thor when his infatuation with Dr. Foster came to its inevitable conclusion in less than one-hundred years. She served Asgard well as a warrior and though she was blind to certain aspects of it, she also showed that she readily accepted things and truths after a certain amount of persuasion. He knew that she would never wholly recognize or respect magick, but she was at least tolerant of it – and it was the very least he could do after knowing her for so many years. There was nothing more that could be done. No more words to be said.

He stood up just as he felt a shift in the subtle tremor of magick that he had cast along with the minor healing spell. It was to prevent anymore ill will towards her while she recovered. And it was also his cue to leave. He turned away from her and headed out of her room, the door swishing close behind him, cutting off the smell of antiseptic and sour cleanliness that reminded him too much of the Helicarrier's medical ward. At the same time he saw both Jormungandr and the metal-armed man step from the shadows, both with grim expressions on their faces.

“Your arm is made out of the metal you call vibranium-”

“But is a metal from Nidhogg's scales that supposedly fell from the roots of Yggdrasil,” the metal-armed man finished for him with the barest of emotion, “the ravens said as much.”

Loki was a little taken aback at how frank the man sounded, but before he could get another word out, the metal-armed man spoke again, “Baldr must have given Dr. Zola some of the vibranium since he was running HYDRA from the shadows, otherwise, the only source I knew of was what made Steve's shield and that was acquired by Stark's father back during the war.” He tilted his head, “The vibranium is important.”

Loki knew that if it was any other mortal saying the words to him, he would have easily cut them down or even dismissed their remarks. But he was cognizant and aware of what the metal-armed man had done for him just mere hours ago; all on the pretense of letting him spar and collect his thoughts. He had not even judged him based on the rest of Midgard's shared history; all because he had 'no history.' It was something that Loki did not believe – after all everything was colored by first impressions and he remembered that the metal-armed man had thrown a knife at him when had first arrived on the balcony days ago. However, since that one time, he had not readily attacked him; and even had helped him during the brief skirmishes they had engaged in at the remnants of the Alps base and in Union Square.

“The only known element that is not spelled, that can contain an Infinity Stone is vibranium because of Nidhogg. Even then, it is only an element that can channel instead of full containment. Baldr was an idiot for not realizing what he had done when he had given this Dr. Zola vibranium to fit onto your arm. The power of the Tesseract that I can feel still leeching and tracing your mind is stored like a sieve in that arm. I speculate that was one of the elements of what helped you regain your memories, because contained and channeled its power. You have just the barest benign threads to the Tesseract and it serves you well.”

“Programming, like Thor,” the metal-armed man stared at him and Loki shook his head a negative.

“Whatever commands you had been given came after the Tesseract-based device ran through your mind,” he said and saw the other man frown a little before nodding once, accepting his words.

“Solves at least one mystery,” the other man muttered before lifting his arm up, “seems like you need it.”

Loki's lips twitched up in a crooked smile before he gestured to Jormungandr, “I am in a state of conservation-” He saw Jormungandr's sudden twitch of alarm and the surprised look the younger man shot at him, but ignored it and shrugged, “whereas you must have read the report on what I had done to find Thanos' portals three years previous, this...this requires a finesse of a spell that I feel not inclined to cast.”

“Loki-”

Loki shot Jormungandr a sharp look to which the other man quieted before staring down at his feet. Good, he was learning, he thought as he reached deep to his core and pulled out the necessary amount of raw magick he could spare, and contained it in a modular. He extended his hand out to Jormungandr who blinked and stared at the modular with some trembling awe before taking it.

Loki suppressed the sudden flare of pain that erupted on the palm of his hand as Jormungandr gingerly plucked the modular and willed himself to hold steady before the brief flash of pain passed and everything seemingly returned to normal. _That_ had been close...a little too close for his own comfort. He flicked a look to the metal-armed man, wondering if he was going to say anything like the other Avengers were wont to do, but only received a surprisingly bland and neutral look. It refreshed him that the man would not question what had happened nor be incessantly nosy about it like Thor's other friends usually were. The small amount of respect he had for the metal-armed mortal grew just a little bit.

He saw Jormungandr take the magick into him, heaving several deep breaths before letting it out. It made him roll his eyes and huff an annoyed sigh before Jormungandr hastily composed himself and reached out to the metal-armed man's hand. Loki watched Jormungandr place his hand over the metal arm before closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as beneath the lids, he saw the flash of gold as Jormungandr started his spellwork. There was a concentrated effort on his face that occasionally turned into a grimace, but then smoothed out into further concentration. After what felt like a few hours, but was only mere minutes, Jormungandr opened his eyes and released the metal-armed man's arm. He stepped back and took another deep breath and Loki thought for a second that Jormungandr would not meet his gaze. But that moment passed too quickly and he wondered if he had imagined it as the younger man faced him.

“May I?” he asked and Loki nodded his assent.

The younger man's spindly fingers reached towards his temple and it was only in the barest moment of contact that Loki only remembered to release the automatic spellwork he had over the area of skin and allow Jormungandr to touch his head. He immediately saw flashes of images, of a vast space visual to where he was versus locales on Midgard that he was familiar with. He could see what Jormungandr had scryed and just as suddenly, it was over and Loki found himself back in the dim hallway with Jormungandr and the metal-armed man.

“I am ready-”

“You will use the remaining magick given to heal Sif and finish the task given to you regarding the healing stones,” he ordered and saw a frown appear on Jormungandr's face before he reluctantly nodded.

“As you wish,” the younger man replied with barely any emotion before he brushed past him and entered Sif's room.

He glanced at the metal-armed man, wondering if he was going to make any idiotic remark about going alone or not facing Thor and Baldr alone, but to his surprise no remark came, and instead he only received a neutral look. “Truly, in your words, 'no history'?”

“I'd do the same for Steve,” the metal-armed man replied and Loki made his decision.

He reached into the spaces-in-between and pulled out two objects, shooting a discreet look towards where Jormungandr was occupied with healing Sif's remaining injuries. Looking back at the metal-armed man he handed over one of the two objects. “The vibranium in your arm will mask it, but this,” he held up the other object in his hand, “will ensure that it is hidden. This must not fall into Thanos hands, even if...” He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat as he realized that it was truly the moment things were coming to a-head. He placed the second object on top of the first and cast the illusion spell. The tessellation would do its work on the object he had fitted on the metal-armed man's metallic hand. “Well...” Loki cleared his throat roughly, “I'm sure you will learn soon enough...”

“Why me?” the metal-armed man asked flexing his fingers a little. There was no visible difference and it had been his intention to make sure that there was little to no difference in visual and weight of what he had given to the metal-armed man.

“Isn't that the question,” Loki only gave him a half smile before he drew apart the skeins and weaves to the shadows of Yggdrasil.

_Thisisnotamistakethisisnotamistakethisisnotamistake_

He saw Jormungandr look up from where he had been concentrating on healing Sif, a stricken surprised look on his face. He could see him scramble out of his chair and throw open the door-

But it was too late for Jormungandr.

_IwillnotfailIwillnotfailIcannotfailIwillbringThorbackandhavemyrevenge_

Loki stepped through, accepting the moment of blackness that had once consumed him and terrified him when he had been on the run from Thanos. _No more_ , he thought viciously before he emerged out of the other side-

Into a field of volcanic black sand and barren lands.

“Welcome, Loki, King of Asgard,” Baldr's booming voice echoed across the desolate field, “to Skeiðarár Sandur.”

* * *

Bucky turned at the sound of a half-cry that fell from Jormungandr's lips as he stared at the spot where Loki had stood. He suppressed a shiver at the unnatural feel of something _not_ right before it all but faded. At the same time he saw the thin blue line Loki had ripped into the air, much like Baldr had in the times that they had met, disappear.

“No...no, why. I needed to go with- Why didn't you stop him?!” Jormungandr whirled on him, eyes bright and angry and James only stared back. He could feel the acute weight of what Loki had given to him and wondered if the man who could easily turn into a serpent could see what was on his arm, but it seemed that he was not paying attention to it.

“Loki- He- He can't-” Jormungandr trailed off before glancing back to the room the Asgardian warrior named Sif was in. There was a torn expression on his face as he seemingly warred with whether or not to go back in and finish what he was doing versus apparently doing something else. A very small part of Bucky felt a little sorry for Jormungandr, having noticed his undying loyalty to Loki and how he had been treated. He had witnessed the conversation between him and Sleipnir, the talk of loyalty and bloodlines, and like Loki had not really formed any opinions regarding him. Though, unlike Loki, he was a little biased only because Jormungandr had apparently poisoned both Natalia and Steve, nearly killing them before the cure had been found and created by both Loki and Dr. Banner. Poison was not something that one could easily fight like any other opponent and so it colored his perception just a little bit.

He watched as the young man seemingly warred with himself before looking at him. “You've traveled Midgard, right?”

Bucky nodded once.

“Can I...can I show you what I showed Loki and you help me figure out where he went?” the request was so plaintive that James hesitated. Ever since Stark, Banner, and the others figured out that the device that had been wiping his mind was Tesseract-based, he wanted little to nothing to do with anything that could affect his mind. He was still dealing with the after effects of what he had now confirmed to be a separate issue – his Level 8 programming of killing Steve – and it had been a trying couple of weeks since their initial return from the Alps.

“What did you see?” he instead said and saw the younger man's face fall before he seemingly hunched into his brown leather jacket and red neckerchief.

“I...I saw...” Jormungandr swallowed, grimacing, “black fields, jagged ice like the spires of Jotunheim. Coal black, small pebbles and grains. There were lava flows like the pits of Muspelheim, but so many black fields. It was as if someone had turned it into ash and the ichorous putrid smell filled the air; like death had come and lingered.”

“Baldr's near an active volcano or volcanic-created sand,” Bucky replied and Jormungandr nodded, “ice fields suggest northern hemisphere or southern.” He took a deep breath and looked up, “JARVIS-”

“Already running a search pattern, Sergeant Barnes,” Stark's mechanized artificial intelligence replied and James smiled inwardly. He had guessed correctly after he had initially sought out Steve at the Avengers tower weeks ago. “Might I suggest this information be shared with the others?”

Bucky glanced at Jormungandr who looked like he did not expect to be consulted and mutely nodded before the two of them headed back upstairs to the common area. Bucky stuck to the shadows as he saw Jormungandr take a deep breath and square his shoulders before stepping out into the common area where the rest of the Avengers were gathered.

“...don't think Baldr can actually do _anything_ ,” Steve was saying as he slowly shook his head, “I think Loki's right; Baldr's just barely controlling Thor and its taking all of his mind and effort to do so. He can't do anything else. Maybe that's why he's been trying to summon Sleipnir back with the geas – so that he can send _him_ to do something.”

“Then the question becomes, why hasn't Sleipnir done something _here_ ,” Natasha spoke up.

“Because he already has,” Jormungandr said and Bucky saw the others start a little at his entrance. They had been clearly engrossed in whatever the ravens were saying.

“How?! He got Sleipnir to-” Coulson stood up from his chair in alarm as did the others.

“No,” Jormungandr shook his head before pointing to Steve's shield, “Loki had me scry my mother's scales. They are the only objects in the world that are able to contain the power of an Infinity Stone. The Infinity gauntlet, the sceptre, the Bifrost, all of it has an element of Nidhogg's scales that can channel the power of an Infinity Stone without destroying its user.”

“Loki...” the younger man grimaced a little before seemingly squaring his shoulders, his expression resolute, “I am not beholden to his wishes nor am his familiar, so I give you this in good faith for my own reasons.”

“I've compiled a search grid based on the parameters given,” JARVIS' voice spoke up, seemingly all around them. Bucky suppressed the urge to smile a little in dark humor at the sight of the ravens jumping a little at the artificial intelligence's voice, their arms flapping a little as if they were still wings.

“Search grid, J? When did you get it-”

“Loki's gone, isn't he?” Natalia interrupted Stark with a shrewd look on her face before turning to the ravens, “you know where?”

One of the ravens, Huugin, if James' memory served correct as to which raven was which, shook his head. However, it was Muunin who spoke up, seemingly more at ease with them than his brother raven. “We cannot know where the King is unless he wields Gungnir or if Sleipnir bows to the summons of his master.”

“The search parameters indicate that active volcanoes are located in the Alaskan-Russian islands, the southern tips of Argentina or Chile, small scatterings of Southern Ocean islands, Siberian Sea, Greenland, Iceland, or the chain of disputed islands between Japan and Russia,” JARVIS spoke up displaying a sudden multitude of imagery including satellites and active volcanic feeds from the various geological agencies around the globe.

“JARVIS, cross search the radioactive decay files from three years ago that Loki allowed us to scan based on how he jumps from place to place,” Dr. Banner spoke up, his gaze pensive as they stared at the display. Bucky noted that the others were mildly surprised before the doctor realized they were staring at him and had a slightly sheepish look on his face. “Loki said as much that he gave Thanos the knowledge to create portals or whatever he calls them to travel the...uh...shadows of Yggdrasil, and I'm guessing that he probably showed him how. I hypothesized that there's a personal signature of sorts in each 'portal' that's created, but probably share the same initial base.

“When I initially ran my check two weeks ago after Baldr left with Thor for the base, there were too many to accurately pinpoint. I think Baldr knew about it based on the leaked SHIELD files or he asked Thor. But he basically threw us off of that scent and made my calculations null and void. Since Loki's gone after Baldr, it should be easy to find his general location,” Banner finished with a hesitant smile on his face.

“I've pinpointed several recent locations. There are trace amounts that seemed to have decayed in areas that indicated previous battles against Thanos' Chitauri forces and I have eliminated those from contention. Based on the search parameters given, there is only one location that matches,” JARVIS replied before a world map popped into existence along side the video feeds that were being displayed.

“Iceland. Nice job, Doc,” Director Coulson nodded in approval before reaching out and spread the world map wide. “JARVIS, are the other locales based on Baldr's recent travels?”

“Possibly, Director Coulson,” JARVIS replied as the holographic map suddenly lit up with three dots, “I have indicated three other areas in which Loki's radiation signature is more recent. Karpov's base, New York, and Stuttgart. The others are more than likely Baldr's radiation signature.”

Bucky saw the Director of SHIELD nod before looking at them, “I'll have my team head to the others to make sure that they're secure with no surprises waiting for us.”

“I'll get Rhodey to check out the ones in Australia and the pacific islands. He's got some mission for the military out there,” Stark started to walk away, tapping his ear.

The others took it as their cue to start heading out when just as suddenly both ravens seemingly froze stiff and glanced at each other. Bucky stared at them, a little alarmed before just as suddenly they turned from their human forms into ravens and not even a half-second later, popped out of existence. He realized that Loki must have drawn Gungnir or even summoned the ravens with it.

“Shit,” Stark swore as he turned back around, “J, lightning overlay!”

“Indicative of a growing strong storm presence over Iceland-”

“Move out,” the words were already out of Steve's mouth even before JARVIS finished.

Bucky smiled tightly to himself as he headed towards the ready room to grab his gear. He was the first one in and the first one out, a feeling of familiarity washing over him like a soothing balm at the sight of the others putting on their weaponry and equipment as he secured his sniper rifle across his back. It was almost an alien feeling had he not recognized it in a quick flash of memory of the same thing happening when the Commandos were deployed out on another mission. It was also the same feeling he got when he distinctly remembered doing the same as the Winter Soldier; and it actually made him feel at peace instead of the burning pain and panic he felt weeks earlier.

“Bucky,” Steve's voice made him stop his ascent up the stairs to the rooftop where the quinjet was waiting for them. He turned, ignoring the stabbing dull pain in between his eyes, though he did not miss the grimace on Steve's face at his discomfort. He knew that there was more than likely a time long ago he would have said something to deflect his best friend's concern about his well-being, but Bucky felt that at this point, he was long past that. They both knew that the programming that had been seared into his mind would be there forever and it was only now about management restraint, and re-training instincts.

“Your arm functional?” Steve asked, gesturing with a gloved hand towards his metal arm.

The corner of his lips twitched up in a tiny smile at his friends words. He was glad that Steve did not ask the obvious question of whether or not he was all right, but rather indicated that he was aware that Loki had scryed his arm. After all, neither of them were oblivious to the fact that they both had vibranium and that Steve certainly had his shield with him the whole damn time.

“As much as it can be after punching a brick wall,” he replied and saw the corner of Steve's lips twitch in an effort to suppress a smile and maintain a sense of decorum and leadership. “It'll function,” he knew that he would have to have Stark look at it after everything was said and done. Stark had done a quick patch fix of sorts during their ride on the quinjet to Stuttgart after Loki's initial arrival, but Bucky knew that his arm was still not fully functional after everything that had happened. It would hold for now, he could feel it, but he also knew that it would _have_ to hold because of what he had been given.

“...Can I-”

“No,” Bucky shot down Steve's request to examine his arm rather bluntly before turning back around and continued to head up the stairs. “I'm fine Steve. Quit your mother hen routine. Ain't gonna fall to pieces here.”

“The scrying spell is not invasive, Captain,” Jormungandr's youthful voice might have startled Bucky if he had not heard the barest whisper of cloth against ground seconds before the young man spoke up. He suspected that Jormungandr had been in his serpent form before turning human again. “It only peers, reflective of where those like it are.”

Bucky glanced back to see the young-looking man with a tentative expression on his face as Steve stopped to talk to him. He had been inwardly surprised at how well he was taking to the fact that Jormungandr and the ravens could change back and forth to their forms. But that surprise had been mitigated by a brief memory of him reading pulp novels and science fiction to Steve during lazy hot summers and cold chilly winters by the fire. He vaguely remember Steve's mother listening in on one of his readings. She had been frail then, blankets covering her coughing form.

“Captain, I was wondering...hoping I could... I know I do not have the right to ask this of you, especially given your history with me-” the young man swallowed heavily and trailed off.

Before Steve could even respond, Bucky said loudly, “I need a spotter.”

Jormungandr turned and blinked up at him confusion etching across his features and he belatedly realized that the young man did not even know what the term meant. “Never mind, just follow,” he shook his head a little and continued to head up the stairs. He heard Jormungandr's tentative footsteps follow him and could feel Steve's curious gaze on him, but ignored it. Heading out of the rooftop door, he saw that the quinjet's ramp was down and Stark was already sitting in the cockpit in his Iron Man suit, running through a series of preflight checks. Bucky advanced up the ramp and chose his seat, settling his rifle's pack against it as the sound of the rooftop door opening signaled the arrival of the rest of the team.

He stepped to the side as the others entered, suppressing his instinct to lash out to give himself a wide berth. This was _his_ team now, Steve's friends and teammates, and it would be poor form to _not_ afford them the due courtesy after what they had done. He could still feel the urge to eliminate everyone in the vicinity – not the killer instinct he had or the deep seeded programming, but the fact that he was the _Winter Soldier_ , a ghost. Invisible to everyone.

And just as suddenly relaxed as he felt Natalia's fingers on the back of his elbow, asking silently with the barest of pressures – _Are you all right_? “Da,” he replied quietly as he forced himself to take a deep calming breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve jog up to the ramp, glancing at him before heading towards the cockpit to which Natalia slid in next to Stark in the co-pilot's seat before Stark vacated the seat to let her finish the pre-flight checks.

“Where's Barton?” Steve asked and Bucky looked up to see that Barton had not arrived yet. He saw Dr. Banner settle himself in the seat opposite of his own, closest to the ramp, closing his eyes in what seemed to be apparent meditation. He supposed that it was the for the best since the green giant aptly named Hulk was more than likely a liability if he needed to immediately jump out of a quinjet instead of wrecking it.

The sound of the rooftop door slamming open made all of them look up to see Barton emerging with the female Asgardian warrior he had learned was named Sif. She still looked extremely wounded, her skin a stark pale color to the dark browns of her hair and eyes.

“She insisted,” Barton huffed out, as he helped her walk towards the quinjet.

“Lady Sif-”

“I will _not_ be left behind while Loki acts like the fool of a bligesnipe like his brother,” Sif glared angrily at Steve who seemed a little taken aback at the forcefulness of her tone. However, Bucky could already see the stubbornness that was so familiar on his best friend's face starting to rear.

“I can heal her on the way so that she is in top fighting form, Captain,” Jormungandr spoke up before Steve could say anything.

A second later, Barton and Sif entered and Bucky immediately vacated his seat to allow Barton to deposit her into it, the two of them looking a little more than relieved. Barton gave him a crooked smile of thanks before making his way to the cockpit. The door slid shut behind him and not even a second later, the ramp was being closed and the engines powered up. Bucky glanced at Steve who had his jaw set in a stubborn line as he stared at Sif who stared back, defiance clear in her brown eyes.

“Fine,” Steve said as the quinjet lurched into the air before settling. He gave Jormungandr and Sif one last look before heading over to the cockpit door, more than likely to talk to Stark who had been watching the whole thing with an unreadable expression on his face. Bucky glanced at Jormungandr; he suspected that the young man had more than likely been trying to wake Sif while Loki had given him the two objects.

“May I heal you?” Jormungandr asked, staring at Sif who was giving him a dark look.

“The last time that happened, you and your brother attempted a coup of Asgard,” Sif shot back and Jormungandr frowned, fidgeting a little before he sat down on the cold metal deck of the quinjet.

“I know...” he produced the familiar small bag of healing stones that Bucky had seen him work with a day earlier and fiddled with it. “But if you're looking for an apology, I can't give you one.”

“And why not?” Sif hissed, grimacing against wounds that were more than likely not healed.

“You would never accept it,” Jormungandr replied in a simple tone.

Sif only stared back for a long moment before nodding once, “You are correct.”

“So for the sake of the selfishness you think I have and the stubborn pride I know you have, may I heal you?” he asked again.

Sif stayed silent for a long moment before nodding and Jormungandr smiled slightly before lifting the bag of healing stones up to him. “If you would be so kind, this will be needed in the upcoming battle. I cannot tell you when to use it, but know that you must use it in a critical juncture. It will protect you only so much from Baldr's abilities, but even I cannot predict what a magister may do. I only know from lore and from history and have created it to the best of my abilities.”

“Why do this?” Sif asked as Bucky took the bag of healing stones and pulled one out. He could feel a warmth of sorts that bled through his gloved flesh-and-blood hand and it was a rather pleasant feeling.

“Because, the House of Odin cannot fall. And I will not see history repeat itself today. Because I love him and have adopted him as my father even if he will not adopt me as his son,” Jormungandr replied, “because Loki always thinks he's alone, and I will prove that he is not, even if he will never acknowledge it. The only lesson I learned when we attempted our coup of Asgard, is that Loki will never abandon Thor. And I will never abandon Loki, even if I die protecting him.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating in the last couple of months. A death in the family kind of killed the momentum and set me back for a while. I should be back to semi-regular updates until this fic is done. Thanks for your patience!


	19. Chapter 19

 

Skeiðarár Sandur.

The volcanic coal-black coarse sand was a thing of devastating beauty to behold, much like the rare beaches of acid lakes on Muspelheim whenever fire season had not destroyed them. But the stark difference between Muspelheim and this place, was the distant mountains of snow and blue-white glaciers. Still, it was an unusual place for Loki to find Baldr waiting for him. It looked almost alien, otherwordly, and most definitely not of Midgard. He would have expected a more populated place, perhaps using one of the pitiful mortals as a hostage of sorts. But then again, he would not have cared either way. The mortals were not for him to save – that was Thor's way. He would sooner burn any mortal that dared get in his way to stop Baldr than to save them. There was perhaps one sole exception and it was Dr. Foster, if only because he knew it would hurt Thor more than anything else if Dr. Foster was injured or deceased.

Loki kept his guard up as he sealed the pathway back into the shadows of Yggdrasil with a practiced hand. He watched as the ancient Asgardian swept his arm across the vista around them.

“I have been expecting you, Loki Odinson, regent-King of Asgard. I have spent the last few days scouring this Nornforsaken rock of a planet for a most appropriate place for your death,” Baldr's tone was pleasant enough, unlike the thunderous one he had used when he had collected Thor from Union Square just a couple of days previous.

With the flick of his wrist, Loki saw the Chitauri sceptre materialize in Baldr's hand, his grip loose, as if enticing him to rashly come and take it in that very moment. He ignored the obvious ploy and instead smiled faintly at the old Asgardian. There was an estimated fifty or so meters between the two of them, but even with the distance, Loki could make out the familial resemblance to Odin Allfather. Baldr had been listed as adopted in the tome he had read in the library, but this confirmed that he was a bastard of the House of Bor.

“I must congratulate you, Loki, for your efforts in recent days,” Baldr started, his voice grandfatherly and benign. It was easy for Loki to instantly understand how deceptive Baldr's voice was, coupled with the power of the Mind Gem sitting on top of the crown of the Chitauri sceptre. Baldr's voice had a soothing quality to it, and he suspected that he used it to great effect, perhaps eons ago when he, Odin, and the Crown Prince had been brothers in Asgard. Baldr's sobriquet was that of the people's prince, and with such a vocal quality, Loki understood why; it was exactly like his own. The only difference it seemed, was that he himself, was distrusted amongst the Court, amongst Asgard itself. And that...that was what made them different, he supposed as he blinked once at Baldr's words. Then again, he suspected that Baldr never had to deal with the prejudices and whispers of unnatural and magick in the Court of Asgard.

“Never in my wildest imagination, and these years of exile have made me creative, did I expect a son of Odin to fall into such a trap. Yet, I have now ensnared Odin's sons. You, like your fool of a brother have come to do my bidding and to return what is rightfully mine,” Baldr gestured widely with his arms, swinging the sceptre's blade this way and that.

“You are mistaken, Baldr,” Loki said evenly as he drew into the pockets of the shadows-in-between and partially pulled out Gungnir. He saw the older Asgardian smile, his teeth still perfectly white, but with what looked like the barest hint of mad light curling it before he concealed Gungnir back into its place. Almost immediately he could feel the faint tethering snap of Huugin and Muunin nearby, but more than likely circling up high in the air in the clouds unseen. “You,” he nodded to the sceptre, “have what _is_ mine. Given rightfully to me by Thanos.”

Baldr chuckled, the sound echoing across the empty dead plains, “Ah, yes...Thanos...” He gestured carelessly with the sceptre, “To the victor go the spoils, I believe, was the mortal saying? Or rather, finders keepers, I think is more appropriate in this case.” He flicked a finger on the crown, “It is a rather useless trinket, even with the Mind Gem on its crown. I needed it not when you were lured here. You, taken in by it all; after all, you were stuck here on the Nornforsaken realm when Asgard fell. All I need is to claim my rightful place-”

“But you do not _have_ Asgard,” Loki pointed out and saw the briefest expression of annoyance flit across the old man's wrinkled countenance before it smoothed out.

“No worries,” Baldr smiled toothily, “I have allowed it to be so easy for you since your entrapment. The Mind Gem is subtle, and it was just the barest touches, the nudge here and there, through my faithful servant. I had foreseen you here, with Gungnir. After all, Odin would _never_ have willingly given up his power even if there were no alternatives.”

The Asgardian swung the curved blade towards the ground, sending bits of black volcanic sand flying through the air, “You are here because I have allowed it. Everything that has happened has been provided by the power of this sceptre and the Mind Gem.” The sudden sharp smell of ozone filled the air and not even a second later, the ground shook with the impact of Thor landing beside Baldr, Mjolnir in his hand. Electricity crackled in small arcs across the hammer as Loki glanced around him to see the gathering of dark stormy clouds.

“Give me Gungnir, and you can free your dear brother, Loki,” Baldr extended his free hand towards him, his voice effortlessly polite and congenial. “The power of Asgard, dear little Jotun, it must be such an immense burden...after all, would you rather start anew instead of seeing the wasteland Asgard has been reduced to? Give me Gungnir and the Mind Gem will show you how to break the geas you have with Thanos.”

It was an effort on Loki's part to not react to what Baldr had said. It had all but confirmed what he had only hints and whispers about. Baldr had been in communication with Thanos and with Malekith through the use of the Mind Gem connected with the Tesseract and the Aether. He had given Malekith the way into Asgard through its defenses. Defenses that might have changed in the thousands of years he had been in exile due to the fact that Asgard had not been a race of conquerors since the Jotuns had been defeated by Odin Allfather. What ever defenses had been changed had been relayed to Malekith through Sleipnir's geas as he betrayed Asgard once again.

He flicked his eyes back and forth between Baldr and Thor. The red-caped idiot looked like he had not had any rest since he had seen him in Union Square. In fact, he looked more bedraggled and exhausted than Loki had ever seen him before, his wounds sustained from Union Square still visible and unhealed. But there was an unnatural light in Thor's eyes, an excitement and fervor that Loki could see. His appearance was just a ploy for him to lower his guard, and it was something he would never do around Thor. Not if his brother wanted a knife in his ribs – and in this case, Loki was more inclined to give him one if he attacked again.

“And what assurances do I have that you do not have a geas with Thor-” he started affecting a quizzical look at Baldr before placing a finger on his lips, “oh, but wait. You cannot create one...not with him under your control.”

“You arrogant whelp-”

“You forget, dear _Uncle_ ,” he sneered, “you are not the only one who knows the power of the sceptre and the Mind Gem. You cannot think of creating a geas with someone who has not readily consented to it, even if however thick of a skull Thor has, to agree to a geas because he cannot consent by his own free will.”

Baldr frowned and glared at him, “And how do you know if I had not let him a moment's peace?”

Loki shrugged, seemingly bored, “I am pretty sure Thor would have used the opportunity to his usual advantage of hitting things whenever they disagreed with him.” He smiled mirthlessly as he shook his head at Baldr, “But I know for a fact that you are wrestling with Sleipnir's geas within you. That the millenia and eons of sharing a geas and keeping a familiar, would have drained your core.”

Baldr opened his mouth to counter his words, but Loki overrode whatever he was about to say, “You see, Sleipnir had his uses. You might have broken him, bent his will with your geas contract and your binding of him as a familiar to supplant both of your cores, but here is what I think. I think you over estimated what had happened with the Crown Prince on the Bifrost, and you pathetically latched onto to the nearest thing the fell into the abyss with you. In doing so, you've damned yourself and the only thing you can do now is goad me into giving you Gungnir so that you can use its additional power to travel and claim your so-called rightful Kingship of Asgard.”

“Sleipnir broke,” Baldr hissed, angry and Loki flicked a quick look to see Thor slowly spinning Mjolnir in his hand with Baldr's reaction.

“Yes, he did,” Loki agreed before giving him a contemptuous look, “but you fixed him.”

The stunned look would have once brought a smile to Loki's face at how neatly he had entrapped Baldr, but instead, it only made him shake his head in disdain. “You are the fool who thought that ordering Sleipnir to kill Frigga would have broken him. Instead, Sleipnir has proven his use by fighting your summons while Thor fights your command over his mind. It's pathetically childish how much you scheme and claim to have infinite wisdom and for all of your years of knowledge, the best you could have come up with was an _exchange_ ,” he sneered. “You could have had it all, Baldr. You could have had it all and my _mother_ did not have to die!”

This time there was a visible reaction from Thor who seemingly stumbled a step, Mjolnir crackling as it unleashed a bolt of lightning harmlessly into the black sand. However, the moment passed and he straightened, his face blank and expressionless. Loki turned back to see Baldr gripping the Chitauri sceptre with a white-knuckled grip and a slow sardonic smile appeared on his lips.

“Having trouble?” he asked almost congenially, the wisp of a spell ready at his finger tips.

Baldr only glared at him just as the sharp smell of ozone filled the air. It was the only warning Loki got before he threw up his hand, shielding himself from a direct lightning strike from Thor. Electric arcs played over the small shield he had conjured around him. Even before it dissipated, Loki quickly danced out of the way of Thor's flying attack. He risked a quick look back to see if Baldr would attack, but somehow, the other man's teeth were bared in a rictus of anger as he seemingly curled his free hand against his chest. Not even a second later Loki's eyes widened in surprise at the crackling _ugly_ ball of black-liquid energy. A geas; more than likely the geas Baldr had with Sleipnir.

However, he did not get a chance to see what Baldr was doing with the geas as Thor attacked again. He shifted his feet, turning to block an overhead strike from Mjolnir as he brought out the Casket of Ancient Winters-bound glaive. Helblindi's gift was certainly proving its worth as the hollow clang of metal-on-metal echoed across the unearthly vista. Bolts of lightning discharged to the side from the impact before Loki broke the stalemate and swept the blade up towards Thor's face. He whirled, shooting off several fireballs to which Thor blocked with Mjolnir before charging at him once more.

Loki danced back a few steps, blocking Mjolnir this way and that, his mouth in a grim line as he fought off Thor's attacks. He could feel bits of sharp rough black sand cut into him, drawing thin lines of blood and grime, but ignored it. He could feel the power behind Mjolnir and knew that his brother had been consumed by Baldr's will once more. Pleading for him to come back to his senses was useless and utter drivel. Thor would have to be incapacitated or Baldr would have to die. And in both cases, he knew that the odds were stacked against him. For one thing, in all of his years sparring with Thor, even fighting him during his brief attempt to conquer this sniveling realm that his brother held dear to his heart, he had rarely outright defeated Thor with physicality. No, he would have to ply his skills of deception and trickery on Thor.

But that was easier said than done, especially with Baldr nearby.

He broke another stalemate against Thor and fired off blasts of icy chunks against his brother with the glaive, targeting Mjolnir. There was little chance of incapacitating Mjolnir; the hammer being a weapon of magick, but he knew that if he disabled it, or at least encased it in so much ice or overwhelmed it, it would give him a moment to concentrate on Thor himself. Thor twisted Mjolnir with a grim look on his face and blasted the chunks of ice he had shot out of the air before firing a bolt of lightning at him. Loki blocked with a raised forearm, the lightning splaying out over his conjured shield once more and saw Thor ready to charge at him once more.

Just as his brother launched himself at him again, Loki ran towards him instead of waiting to block his attack. He saw Thor's eyes narrowing in surprise, but knew that it was too late for Thor to change his trajectory. He slid _under_ his brother's low flying form just as he passed overhead, and slashed at his back with the glaive. The sharp blade cut through part of his cape and embedded into his armor. Thor grunted, but Loki was not finished as he used his advantage and blasted a jet of cold ice into the wound he had made, sending Thor stumbling head over heels before he fell to the ground.

Thor groaned, his breath coming in labored hissing gasps as the jagged shards of ice he had blasted behind him started to drip crimson. But Loki did not hesitate as he took advantage of his brother's disoriented state and marched forward, his glaive held at the ready as he fired several blasts of energy towards Thor, peppering the sharp glassy black sand around him. Smoke filled the air as Loki continued to stalk forward- Only to suddenly find himself flying through the air, sharp cracking pain spreading from his ribs, making him gasp before he landed hard on the ground. Mjolnir tumbled to the side before being summoned back into the smoke cloud surrounding Thor.

Loki winced as he felt his breath hitch and wheeze. Thor had thrown Mjolnir hard enough to fracture his ribs, maybe even break a few, he could feel it. He cast a quick numbing spell as he pushed himself up and coughed. A coppery wet taste filled his mouth as he spat out blood, the sudden rush of pain overriding whatever spell he had used to dull it. Through slightly hazy eyes, he saw Thor stalking out of the dissipating smoke cloud, blood caking one side of his face. He seemed unaffected by the jagged ice shards protruding from his back as he held Mjolnir in his hand, blood dripping down and coating his fingertips.

The pain must have made him black out momentarily, because the next thing Loki was aware of was the sharp clack of his own teeth hitting each other and himself tumbling end over end. He reacted instinctively to Thor's kick and lashed out with several conjured daggers, the ping of them being blocked by Mjolnir telling him how close Thor was before he rolled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain of his ribs and roared as he plunged the dagger in his boot into Thor's ribs.

Thor staggered back, ripping the dagger out before tossing it to the side as Loki scrabbled for his glaive, having fallen from his grip when he had been kicked by Thor. He saw Thor reach into his belt and pull out a familiar healing stone before crumpling it against his own wound just as Loki knelt down and picked up his glaive, leaning himself against it. His jaw hurt, his ribs were definitely cracked if not broken, judging by how _hard_ it was for him to breathe as he took that second of reprieve to stare at Thor.

He could almost hear the faint echoes, the entreaties that Thor used to say to him, plead with him to work together. That they were not enemies, that they were brothers who fought together, played together. And Loki remembered all of that... But he was not feeling merciful enough to even think of speaking such _useless_ words of sentimental drivel to Thor. He had warned him, time and time again that sentiment was his undoing. Look where it ended up with him now. He bared his teeth, furious anger filling him at the sight of his brother and his blank visage. How dare- Baldr had _no_ right-

The sudden animalistic scream filling the air startled the two of them before a blot of shadow blocked the sun. Not even a split second later, a gigantic snake dropped from the skies, hood flared, fangs extended as Jormungandr _screamed_ at Thor landing with an earth-shaking thump. Loki staggered and backpedaled two steps to regain his footing as he saw Thor stumble too as Jormungandr did not hesitate and flung himself at Thor. He was the size of when he had been shielding Loki from the collapsing base as he flicked his powerful tail and sent Thor flying into the air. But instead of waiting for Thor to regain his senses, Loki watched as the man of iron and the winged-one flew past, chasing and firing repulsor bolts and bullets at him. Another earth-rattling thump followed by the familiar roar of the green giant named Hulk was followed his sudden charge past the two of them, intent on chasing after Thor.

“Loki!” the familiar voice of Captain Rogers made him look up to see the quinjet hovering in the air, Romanov and Barton manning the controls as Rogers, the metal-armed man, and to his mild surprise, Sif, jumping to the ground.

“You, are a dim-witted silver-tongued idiot, Loki,” Sif stalked over, shield held at the ready, blades extended.

“Good to see you too, Sif,” Loki replied dryly as he absently spat out some more blood. He noted and ignored everyone's worried looks at him. He heard the shift of black sand and glanced up to see Jormungandr peering down at him, his tongue flicking in and out, tasting the air. “Deal with Thor,” he ordered him and saw the large serpent inclined its hooded head once before slithering away where the distant sounds of the Hulk, Thor, Iron Man, and the winged-one were fighting.

While a part of him was readily annoyed that the Avengers had come, Jormungandr no doubt giving them the location, at the same time, it left him the opportunity to deal with Baldr. He placed the glaive he had been using against Thor back into the spaces-in-between and drew out Gungnir instead. At the same time, he started to walk to where Baldr was. He immediately heard the flap of wings as the ravens soared down from where they had been flying in the sky, Muunin perched on his shoulder while Huugin glided overhead. Even in their animal form, he could feel the anger in the ravens judging by how harsh Muunin's talons were digging into his shoulder.

The whine of the quinjet flying overhead followed by the sudden angry buzz of its minigun firing behind him told him that Romanov and Barton had decided to go after Thor, leaving Baldr to him. It was an idiotic course of action, but Loki understood why Romanov had made the decision for Barton. Thor could easily blast them out of the sky, but it also told him that they were heeding his and the ravens warnings about Baldr's unpredictability.

“Baldr!” he shouted across the vast plain and saw the old man look up, his hand still curled around his chest where the black ichor of the geas crackled with barely controlled energy.

“Too late,” the other man laughed and sent the geas towards the ground. A wave of dust and debris flew towards him and Loki hastily conjured up several shields. The sharp shards passed through the Avengers who stayed instead of going after Thor. He looked up again, the shields fading in time to see the geas orb rotating slowly in the open palm of a bloodied chained wrist. Sleipnir's icy blue eyes stared back at them, a grimacing smile on his face.

“I am truly sorry, my Prince,” he apologized with tear-filled maddening smile before he threw the black crackling orb at them. The world around Loki exploded.

* * *

Jormungandr had only left the vaguest instruction on when to use the modified healing stone he had passed out in the quinjet, but Steve reacted on the instinct that screamed _now_ was the moment. In the brief moment before the black orb of nightmares hit them, he crushed the healing stone in his free hand and slammed it against his shield as he ducked behind it. He grimaced and closed his eyes against the wave of inferno heat and crackling power as he pushed his shield against the seen and unseen wave of destruction and death. He could feel his feet slipping on the coarse volcanic sand, but held firm, trying not to breathe in the hot putrid air that _told_ him was poisonous. Just as suddenly it was as if a vacuum had sucked everything out and Steve could breathe again. He looked up to see that the area around them was no more volcanic sand, but rather black volcanic _glass_. Jagged, sharp shards crested and towered around them in frozen shiny reflective obsidian waves.

Small movements out of the corner of his eyes told him that Bucky and Sif had come out of the destructive energy relative unscathed. On the other side of him, he saw Loki seemingly lift his hand from his chest, the remnants of something crackling fading into the air. The distant sounds of thumping made him glance over to see billows of debris and smoke rising in the distance. Even though the rest of his team was fighting Thor, it was the fact that Jormungandr was in that fray that sent a quiet shiver down his back.

Ragnarok. Almost exactly like Ragnarok except Baldr was very much alive, but now Loki was set to face off against him. Part of the Norse myths said that during Ragnarok, Jormungandr the Midgard Serpent was to fight Thor and both would die at the end, though Thor would be victorious, take nine steps and die.

Shaking his head a little to get himself back in focus, he saw Sleipnir staring at them, his face torn between apologetic and furious anger. Clearly, he had lost the will to fight whatever geas or summon Baldr had been using on him and more than likely walked the shadows of Yggdrasil to get here. He heard what sounded like a high pitched crackling whine and looked to see Loki suddenly disappear from view before suddenly appearing in front of Baldr, slamming the end of Gungnir towards the older man in an attempt to skewer him. Steve did not see the result as Sleipnir launched his attack at them, firing off several concussive bolts that made Steve instinctively raise his shield once more, hearing the hollow thonk of the bolts reflecting off.

“Steve!” he heard Bucky shout just as his instincts screamed for him to roll and he did, lashing out with his shield to block the metal chain coming towards his face. He planted his free hand on the ground and kicked towards Sleipnir, grimacing as his legs met Sleipnir's battered but very solid body and sent him stumbling.

At the same time he saw Bucky throw several punches towards Sleipnir, his metal arm a loud grinding whine at this close of a distance. Sleipnir retaliated, lashing out with his chains before entangling one of them in Sif's sword. She rammed him with her small shield. Sleipnir flew back, pulling Sif's sword along with him with a insane smile on his face before he landed nimbly on his feet, grabbing Sif's sword out of the air. He seemingly fiddled with something on its hilt and the sword became double-bladed as Sif glared at him.

“You have what is mine, traitor,” she growled out, holding her shield close to her body.

Sleipnir only laughed, an ugly insane sound as the light in his eyes became fever bright. “I've got nothing to lose, Lady Sif. Come now, let us see who is master of the sword,” he taunted as they circled him.

Steve took the moment to assess where the rest of his team was and if they need his help. He had no intention of abandoning Sif and Bucky to fight Sleipnir alone, but he also knew that all of them were being pushed to their limits – barely enough time to have fully healed from their initial mission to the Alps to now. He could see in the far distance, clouds of rubble and dust flying in the air followed by what looked like a maelstrom forming on land judging by the swirl of lightning and animalistic screams of hissing anger that was Jormungandr, the Hulk, and the rest of his team against Thor. To his left he could barely make out the quick moving forms of Baldr and Loki fighting, Gungnir against the Chitauri sceptre, but only knew that they were still there because of the circling specks that had to be Odin's ravens overhead.

Finished with his assessment, he caught Bucky's eye and saw his friend nod once, a plan of attack instantly formed. However, that plan went sideways when just as Steve got ready to throw his shield to knock Sleipnir off balance again, there was the sudden popping sound and a flurry of black-feather like blades dove towards Sleipnir.

“Muunin!” Sif shouted and Steve caught the human-formed raven's quick look towards him before he reacted on the unspoken signal and threw his shield. Muunin suddenly turned back into a raven and flew high into the air just as Steve's shield slammed into the red-haired man's face, spraying the air with the fine mist of blood. Steve was already running to catch his shield on the rebound as Bucky vaulted into the air with Sif's boost of her shield and slammed his metal arm into the other side of Sleipnir's face, knocking him to the ground. He saw his friend twist and kick Sleipnir slamming a knife into his shoulder, making him screaming pain before Steve caught his shield and charged towards the other man.

He saw Bucky duck under a vicious swipe of the double-edged sword before rolling with a retaliatory kick to his sternum, dragging his fingers onto the reflective-black glassy ground to stop his momentum just as Steve slammed into Sleipnir. He threw all of his weight against his shield and sent Sleipnir flying into the air before he landed and used his sword to stop his own momentum, very like how Bucky had just did. At the same time, Sleipnir lashed out with one of the chains on his free hand, breaking shards of glass and sending them flying towards them with an unspoken wave of his fingers.

Steve ducked behind his shield again as the shards pinged off of his shield, wincing at the cuts he received from his unprotected sides. He thought it would stop, but the wind seemingly kicked up and Steve had to squeeze his eyes shut against the blinding dust and glass being thrown up as he tried to hear what was happening, where the attack was coming from-

He suddenly choked as a cool biting metal wrapped around his throat and realized that it was one of Sleipnir's chains as the whirlwind died a little. Steve instinctively grabbed a hand against the chain around his throat as he felt more than saw the very sharp blade of Sif's sword pointed against one of the joints of his kevlar-armored plates of his uniform.

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Sleipnir's voice hissed in his ear before Steve's breath hitched as the blade plunged in between the plates.

Pain exploded across his body as the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth and he suddenly found his strength lacking. His vision whited out for a brief moment and he thought he heard someone screaming his name from seemingly down a long tunnel before he came to his senses once more. He only barely propped himself up with his shield before he fell completely to the ground and saw bright red dots dripping into the glassy ground. That was blood...from his own mouth, he realized as he heard the distant sounds of fighting.

He absently pawed at his neck, forgetting for a moment why he was doing that when he should have been feeling something metal around his neck. It was also then that he was distantly aware of his breath hitching and wheezing, agony inflaming his side and gingerly turned his head downward to blearily to see half of the blood-covered double-bladed sword embedded deep into the ground. Steve found himself shaking as he stared upside down at his own body impaled on Sif's blade, blood slowly dripping down the shaft.

He absently coughed and immediately groaned as his body shook from the cough, making waves of agony ripple through him as his arm shook from the effort to keep himself from falling towards the ground and making the wound even worse. He needed to keep himself propped up, otherwise, Steve knew that he would never have the strength to push himself back up if he was lying on the ground. Granted, he was already bleeding out, but he needed to be able to somehow get the blade out of the ground, or at least push himself off of the blade.

He turned his gaze from the sickening sight of his own body pinned to the ground and saw that Sif and Bucky were struggling against Sleipnir who seemingly went after them with unholy glee. Bucky was clearly distracted as he saw his best friend shoot looks at him, barely ducking out of the way of Sleipnir's chains that were being used as makeshift flails against him, or absorbing the attacks with the clumsiness that Steve usually never associated with his friend. He could see Sif also fighting, but without her sword, she could only block any attack Sleipnir unleashed on her, unable to take an offensive stance due to his reach and range.

He realized that Bucky needed at least some reassurance, something to tell him that he was fine after what had just happened. He lifted up his free hand and thumbed the mic on with his teeth. “Bucky...I'm fine...” he managed to say before he had to lower his arm, the pain of just that simple of movement overwhelming him.

“Steve?! Steve, Sif says you need to press the blade- need to press-” Bucky's words became garbled over the might as a fierce wind started to pick up again.

Steve squinted, wondering if it was the prelude to another attack by Sleipnir before he saw in the far distance the quinjet wobbling in the sky, lightning dancing around it in broad arcs and jumps. He could imagine Barton at the controls, fighting the stick and turbulence as the gale force winds turned almost tornadic, the maelstrom that the rest of his team had been fighting in growing larger and larger. And just as suddenly Steve saw one of the bolts of lighting strike and skitter across the quinjet. There was half a second of the quinjet seemingly going dead before it exploded into a huge fireball across the sky.

Adrenaline and shock flooded into Steve as he immediately lifted his wrist up, heedless of the pain ripping through him. “Romanov! Barton! Clint! Natasha! Someone report!” he shouted into the comms.

Static answered him.

* * *

 


	20. Chapter 20

There was a few seconds of static that answered Steve before Sam's voice crackled across the comms, “Barton and Romanov are here. Their comms got fried in the middle of the EMP explosion of the quinjet, but we're having some tough time-shit, shit, shit!” The rest of the line went to static again and more lighting skittered across the skies as Steve squinted against the blinding winds once more. Thor's fight was getting closer to him. He could feel the winds pushing against his body and knew that he needed to be freed of the blade that pinned him to the ground before they could shred him apart.

His body felt like dead weight, his head light from the blood loss and knew that he had to get himself off of the blade before it did even more damage. He remembered Sleipnir fiddling with something on the blade itself before it expanded into a double blade and figured there had to be a button of sorts. He hoped it was nothing to do with twisting the handle as he gritted his teeth and reached behind him. His vision whited for a second at his movements, but Steve forced himself to stare at the incoming maelstrom that was dominated by the angry roars of the Hulk and the animalistic screams of Jormungandr against Thor.

In what seemed like an agonizing minute of groping for the release, he finally felt something small protruding from the handle and pushed on it-

Just as the teeth-rattling, earth-shattering boom filled the air followed by every single hair on Steve's neck standing on end at the closeness of the lightning strike. It was not even over when he stared at the maelstrom that had engulfed him – the high pitched mortal scream of death searing across his ears. He could only gape wordlessly as he barely remembered to catch himself as the blade retracted from his body and immediately felt even more light headed from the sudden loss of blood and of stabilization. From his vantage point and through the slight thinning of the high winds and blinding gravel swirling around him, he saw the shadow of Jormungandr fall heavily to the ground and laid still. A brief pause in the wind showed him the grievous wound the large serpent had suffered in the lightning strike by Thor, splitting a good part of him in vertically in half as the ichor of black blood poured out. Not even a second later, the wind kicked up again and Steve raised his hand to shield his eyes.

He tried to suppress the shudder of horror that filled him as he could not get the image of Jormungandr's prone body out of his mind. It _was_ exactly like Ragnarok – like the Norse myths of old. Thor had defeated the Midgard Serpent. Was there to be nine steps for Thor to take before he died of poison? Steve did not doubt that the poison was already there – but not from Jormungandr, but rather the poison was the Chitauri's sceptre's hold on his friend's mind.

“-eve! S-Steve! Get-”

The crackling of the comm in his ear faded in and out as he grimaced against the winds that blew over him. The gravel and bits of obsidian volcanic glass that was kicked up tore at him and he could feel small cuts on his face. He wanted to hunch in on himself further, to shield himself from the deadly swirl of tornadic activity of the maelstrom above him; but he also knew that he could not risk opening the wound further even as he felt faint and light headed. He could feel his heart beating rapidly and knew that he had lost a good amount of blood. He could still feel something dripping down his middle, and knew that he needed to somehow stem the bleeding, but with the storm right above him he could not do anything, except pull his shield closer to him.

The ground shook again, but this time with uneven undulations followed by the angry roar of the Hulk somewhere in front of him. Steve forced himself to open his eyes and peer over the lip of his shield to see the faint outline of the Hulk roaring at the sky, one hand shielding his own eyes as he tried to find some purchase against the ground. His roar was answered not even a second later as Steve saw a red-caped blur slam into the Hulk's middle, driving him into the ground.

Steve barely rolled out of the way, gasping involuntarily as he felt the wet spurt of blood splash against his already damp uniform and his vision briefly turned grey. He barely managed to prop himself up as he saw Thor kneeling into the Hulk's middle, one hand gripping Mjolnir. But what surprised Steve was that Thor's expression was not a blankness that he had seen at Union Square, but rather, looked strained. The reason became clear as Thor seemingly struggled to lift Mjolnir from where he and the hammer pinned the Hulk to the ground. Mjolnir deemed Thor not worthy anymore to lift it. The Hulk himself was enraged, his arms and legs flailing about as he tried to both knock Thor away from the hammer and at the same time get the hammer off of himself.

Steve immediately took advantage of the situation as he ignored the flash of pain and more spurts of blood from his wound and ducked under one arm of the Hulk while throwing his shield at Thor. It hit the Asgardian solidly in the middle, sending him tumbling down one side of the Hulk's body to which the Hulk roared and tried to roll over to crush the Asgardian. However, due to Mjolnir pinning Hulk in place, it was unsuccessful and Steve used the momentum he gained as he caught his shield. He leapt over Hulk's body and kicked Thor solidly in the chest. He could see the moment where Thor reacted to his attack, raising his arms defensively before swinging back at him. But Steve was too well-versed and even with his wound, he managed to duck underneath the first thrown punch and side-stepped one of the Hulk's other arms flailing about in an effort to crush any and all that were around him.

Thor's eyes flashed with anger as Baldr controlled him from within and he saw the other man's teeth bared in a rictus that looked unlike the Thor he knew. The thunder god advanced forward, kicking the Hulk's green side, making him roar in pain and Steve nearly lost his footing around the Hulk as his arms slammed miniature earthquakes all around him. He only managed to grab onto the nearest stable object for purchase and looked down as his right hand curled instinctively around the pommel of Mjolnir.

It suddenly felt _right_ and _worthy_.

Steve could feel the surge of strength and of _power_ rush through him, but rather than drink in the heady feeling, he focused it all on the point of where he wanted the legendary and powerful weapon of the Thunder God to go. Like many times a child who played street ball with the local children, he always practiced his bat swing and so swung the hammer towards Thor who's eyes widened in surprise just as he had been ducking under one of the Hulk's arms.

Mjolnir connected solidly with Thor's head and knocked him head over heels away from the Hulk. At the same time, Steve let go of the hammer, allowing it to continue its momentum where it landed on Thor's chest, pinning the Asgardian to the ground even as he fell unconscious from the blow. The maelstrom abruptly stopped, sending a shower of black glass and sand down on himself and the Hulk.

The surge of _right_ and _worthiness_ disappeared as exhaustion and pain rushed through Steve and he grimaced, falling to his knees as he curled around his stab wound. He squeezed his eyes shut against the white spots that had appeared in his vision. He knew he had lost a lot of blood, maybe a little too much. His breath was shaky and his heart felt like it was beating too fast. He could feel the rumbles and snorts of anger from the Hulk next to him, but the sudden weakness that had gripped him would not abate. He heard the sounds of a victorious shout and the screech of one of the ravens, more than likely Muunin followed by the crackle and pop of a deathly silence that spread across the obsidian glassed battlefield.

“Steve? Steve!” Sam's voice was followed by a hand landing heavily on his shoulder and he opened his eyes and blearily looked up to see Sam staring down at him, concern filling his features. He looked beyond him to see that both Clint and Natasha had survived the explosion of the quinjet, though both looked a little worse for wear. Tony was just touching down in the suit and Steve surmised that both Tony and Sam had broken off the engagement against Thor to save Clint and Natasha when the quinjet exploded.

“I'm...okay-”

“Yeah right,” Sam interrupted and Steve could only manage a faint smile.

“Probably right...” he agreed as he lifted his palm from where he had been unconsciously covering his wound. It was stained a dark red and he felt a little nauseous just looking at the sheer amount of blood on his glove.

“Just hang on, Steve, all right, don't go passing out on me-”

“Sure...” Steve felt very light-headed. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but knew that it was the blood loss talking. He could feel a prickly sensation crawl across his skin; the super soldier serum's healing factor trying to compensate for the blood loss and the stab wound, but did not know if it was enough to heal him that fast. His world tilt a little at the same time he heard Sam's shout and then Loki's quiet voice echoed across the silent battlefield.

“Surrender, Baldr, you are defeated,” Steve roused himself and forced his eyes to focus on the not-so-distant form of Loki who was pointing Gungnir at Baldr down on the ground.

Near them was Bucky, Lady Sif, and Huugin who were standing behind Muunin. It seemed that the former warrior turned raven-familiar had bested Sleipnir by sword-point, proving once and for all that the raven was truly the Lord of Swords. He was a little surprised that Bucky had been able to go toe-to-toe against Sleipnir and last that long. He understood why Sif and the ravens were able to withstand a lot of Sleipnir's attacks being Asgardians, but even he had been hard-pressed to keep up before he was injured. Bucky never ceased to amaze him and his fortitude was a thing to behold.

“Here, use this Sam,” he turned at Natasha's voice to see her leaning down, holding out an unused healing stone that had been modified by Jormungandr. “Clint used his on the quinjet to keep us in the air when that geas attack,” she explained, “I still have mine and I don't know what Jormungandr did to it, but it's a healing stone, so hopefully it'll heal.”

“Are you sure?” Sam turned his head and Steve followed his gaze, forcing him to concentrate instead of letting the white spots in his vision distract him, to see Jormungandr's limp body nearby. It looked like his serpentine form was slowly shrinking, but there was still an ungodly amount of black ichor around the bisected section of the body itself. Had Jormungandr survived Thor's vicious vivisection of his body?

“Do it,” Steve winced as he nodded his assent and watched as Sam crushed the blue stone in his gloves before halving it. He met his friend's gaze and nodded once before Sam placed both of his hands on either side of his wound and pressed.

Steve grunted at the white hot pain before he felt _something_ seemingly slam into the wound. It almost hurt except for the fact that he could not even draw a single breath to scream much less breathe- When just as suddenly, the white spots in Steve's vision disappeared and he could _feel_ his skin knitting, the wound's fiery pain slowly fading and opened eyes he did not know he had closed. At the same time, he felt re-energized, invigorated, and he looked down to see where there was once blood was now pink, whole, healthy flesh. There was not even a single scar.

“Wow,” Sam commented absently as he reached out to help him up. Steve shifted his shield to his other hand and grabbed his friend's arm and gingerly pulled himself up, his world still a little dizzy, but otherwise he was slowly regaining his equilibrium. “Hate to say it, but it looked like you just glowed a little and then I literally saw your wound seal up like a zipper of sorts. Creepy, but wow...”

“Thanks...I think,” Steve did not know what to make of the description, but as he leaned gingerly on his friend's weight, still a little unsteady on his own feet, he turned to see that Loki and Baldr had not even moved a single inch since Loki had demanded the ancient Asgardian's surrender.

“I'm more impressed that you lifted Thor's hammer,” Tony's voice was full of relief, and Steve glanced back to see him walking towards them, glancing towards Thor who looked like he was still out cold.

“Instinct,” Steve shrugged. He had a feeling that he would never lift the hammer ever again. Perhaps there was some kind of instinctive magic or a bond between the weapon and Thor; similar to how the ravens were extensions of Odin's eyes and ears. Maybe Mjolnir sensed some distress in its wielder and needed someone else to break the dark hold it had. Whatever it was, he would think on it later as he turned back to where Loki was staring down at Baldr.

“Yield and have judgment rendered upon you by Asgard law, Baldr,” Loki's voice rang across the deathly silent battlefield, almost emotionless.

“I will _not_!” Baldr hissed, teeth clenched together. The Chitauri sceptre laid a few feet away from Baldr, a clear sign that he had been disarmed. A sudden ragged choking sound emerged from where Sleipnir also laid on the ground.

Steve saw Muunin's grip on a matte black sword, almost like an elongated feather of sorts, dip lower in warning and realized what Baldr was trying to do – summon Sleipnir towards him to fight. He took a half step forward at the same time Bucky and Sif took their steps forward to prevent Sleipnir from doing the same. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Clint readying his bow, arrow steadily on Sleipnir while Natasha had drawn both of her guns and pointed it straight at the prostrated man on the ground.

Sleipnir's body twitched and tremored as if it was not his own and it only took a second for Steve to realize that the other man was fighting the command, the geas, the summon of a familiar – whatever it was he was fighting it. Another choking sputter rendered the air and blood burst forth from Sleipnir's mouth like a bubbling fountain and Steve stared, horrified at what was happening.

“Loki-”

“Do not interfere, Captain,” Huugin suddenly landed and appeared in front of them in his human form, one hand extended away from his body to prevent them from moving any further. “It is the King's judgment-”

“He's torturing him-”

“And is not a matter for mortals such as yourself, Falcon,” the normally quiet raven stated, beady eyes staring at them with a hard look.

“Don't,” Steve looked beyond the raven to see Sif suddenly change her stance, her shield and arm extended out to stop Bucky like Huugin had did with them. He met Bucky's hooded look with a helpless one of his own as he realized that by virtue of having fought Sleipnir, he was the closest of all of them to see what was really happening and it was disturbing him.

Steve realized that he had to stop this. Whatever confession or surrender Loki was trying to wring out of Baldr, it was clear that it was hurting Sleipnir as he resisted Baldr's mental commands. “Loki!” he ignored Huugin's deathly glare, “Loki, stop this-”

“You've lost, Baldr,” Loki suddenly said, “all of your plans for nothing. All of your vaunted ideals for control amounted to nothing. You, are here because _I_ allowed it. You are here because you are _nothing_. Did you truly expect to have regained the throne of Asgard? No, my dear Uncle. You truly do not understand what it is to make such a geas-”

“And you do?!” Baldr's voice was hoarse and he started to laugh, “you poor wretched fool of a Jotun whelp. I, am a _magister-_ ”

“Only in name, Baldr. Only in name,” Loki's expression suddenly became menacing, “and never a true-born magister. Otherwise, your bonds would not have broken, your concentration never wavered, and you would not have lost this fight a long time ago.”

Steve realized what had happened in the moment he had knocked Thor out with Mjolnir. It must have snapped the mental bond that had bound Thor to Baldr with the Chitauri sceptre. That kind of abrupt severing of a connection allowed Loki to disarm Baldr in those crucial moments and at the same time, allow Sif, Bucky, and the ravens to defeat Sleipnir. Such an effect must have been a mental whiplash of sorts to have disoriented the man from even doing anything else. It all but confirmed that Baldr did not even have any reserves to do anything overt except to gain whatever power was here on Earth in an effort to then achieve the throne of Asgard.

Baldr's laugh turned into a mad cackle, “And, you, whelp, are not _fooling_ anyone. You think that you can hold onto such an illusion-”

The burst of a golden bolt from Gungnir was so fast that Steve almost did not catch it before Baldr suddenly slumped to the ground, dead. At the same time, Sleipnir suddenly stopped choking, released from whatever mental summons Baldr had been forcing upon him. His breaths wheezing in the stillness of the Icelandic air. Huugin lowered his arm at the same time Sif did too and Steve immediately ran forward, stumbling a little as his feet and the loss of blood caught up with him before he arrived near where Sleipnir laid.

He got his first good look at the red-haired man who had once been a great Asgardian warrior, but was now broken by Baldr and his machinations. Blood coated a majority of Sleipnir's once handsome, now wasted face. There were a few cuts, but a majority of the blood looked like it had come from the mouth. It was clear that Sleipnir was dying. Muunin was still standing by Sleipnir's head, black blade pointed at the other man's throat. There was an unreadable expression on Muunin's face, even more so than the usual blank dead-eyed look the raven wore. He thought back on the story that the raven had told of the fight on the Bifrost and realized that Sleipnir must have been the one to have dealt Muunin the mortal blow.

“This is the fate of familiars, little bird, there is nothing you can do for one who has their core tied to a master,” Huugin spoke up quietly behind him and Steve turned to see that Sam looked a little torn. He knew his friend had combat medic training and was more than likely wondering what he could do to ease the clear pain etched on Sleipnir's face. To his surprise, Bucky stepped up next to Sam and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder before letting go just as fast.

“I do not expect you to weep for me,” Sleipnir coughed hoarsely at them, his bright icy blue eyes focused on them before flicking a look up at Muunin who still held him at blade point. He was clearly no more of a threat, but the raven had not moved a single inch.

“The tears dried long ago, Sleipnir,” Huugin replied a little stiffly.

The red-haired man's lips turned up in a mirthless smile, his teeth stained with the dark red of blood still pouring from his mouth. He coughed again. “I suspect there were no tears, were there, Lord of Swords?”

Steve glanced up at Muunin's moniker and the raven only blinked once. Apparently it was some sort of answer that he did not know as the dying man coughed again and his mirthless smile became a little sadder. “I am truly sorry, Muunin. I do not expect your forgiveness, but I ask that you understand why I did it.”

Silence reigned from the other raven as Sleipnir's breath became a little shallower, a little more ragged. Steve could not help but feel a bitter sadness as he could see the end for the other man. His was a tragic tale, one that certain lent weight to the stories of Norse myths and such, but at the same time, Steve knew he could never truly comprehend what Sleipnir did and why he had done what he had done.

“You should have let me kill your father in the first place, then none of this would have happened,” Muunin suddenly said just as Sleipnir took his last breath.

As the rattling exhale was heard in the air, Muunin finally lifted his blade from Sleipnir's neck and seemingly sheathed it behind him. Steve could not even see where it went, and surmised that it had disappeared in a similar manner to how Loki occasionally pulled his modulars or even made his glaive appear from thin air. He was about to reach down and close Sleipnir's still-open dead eyes when a literal flame rendered the air near them and he quickly pulled his shield up, wary of an attack-

“Sigyn,” Sif stated, staring at the two people who had appeared from the flames.

One he instantly recognized as Hel, the other was not even remotely human to say the least. The...creature, looked human, but seemingly floated a few inches above the ground. The body shape was feminine, curved and seemingly armored in what he could only describe as cooled lava, but what was exposed as skin or body was literal flames. Thin lines of fire trailed behind her and the black skeletal-like armor that covered her features also gave shape to a mouth and nose. But she had no eyes. In place of eyes, there was seemingly a maelstrom of fire that peered out from the depths.

“You're supposed to be _dead_ Sigyn,” he glanced at Sif to see her holding her shield a little defensively, “and you, Lady Hel-”

“Are here by my Prince's command, Lady Sif,” Hel's voice was its usual monotone, but Steve could feel the power behind it, much like when he had first encountered her back in London a couple of years ago. “And Sigyn is quite deceased, my Lady, slain by my Prince. She now serves me as a Valkyrie in her full capacity suitable for her kind, a Fire Demon of Muspelheim.”

Steve glanced at Sif to see her staring narrowed eyed at the fire demon named Sigyn. There was clearly history behind that look and he wondered if Sigyn had also been a part of Loki or Odin's coterie. Sif seemed to have made a decision as she finally lowered her shield and Steve relaxed. He took a few steps back and Sigyn took it as her cue to move towards them and knelt next to Sleipnir. A glance at the ravens showed that both Muunin and Huugin were standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder though Huugin was looking worriedly at his brother.

“Are all Valkyries like that?” Sam whispered next to him and Steve shook his head.

“I don't know...from what I read, they're just there to escort those who fell in combat to the halls of Valhalla. They're usually associated with horses and winged things, but that's about it.”

“Well...she floats,” Tony muttered behind them and Steve could almost see the other man rolling his eyes in his suit. It would have been a little funny to him if not for the seriousness of the situation and of the fact that Sigyn looked utterly alien.

The Valkyrie daintily knelt down and slid her hands underneath Sleipnir's body. Not even a second later, the body instantly turned to ash, but instead of the ash falling to the ground, it seemingly lingered as if it retained the outline of Sleipnir's body.

“Whoa...” Clint exclaimed faintly behind them and Steve thought he heard a very quiet 'wow' from Natasha.

The Valkyrie stood up, before bending down and extending a hand towards the ash. To Steve's astonishment, he saw the ash-form of Sleipnir seemingly accept the hand and was pulled up. But as soon as the pile of ash stood up, it dropped away to reveal the ghost-like form of a man he barely recognized. It was only by virtue of the fact that he knew that the faint spectre had come from Sleipnir's ash pile that he realized the spectre was actually Sleipnir, free from the madness and the geas that had long consumed him. He was startlingly handsome, with eyes that were kind and helpful. A carefree smile was on his face, making him look even more youthful and Steve felt a pang of sadness at the sight of the spectre.

A familiar groan of pain broke the spell that had seemingly been cast over them and Steve realized that Thor was waking. He moved away from the others as he hurried over to where Thor laid, Mjolnir still sitting on his chest. Near him was Bruce, lying on the ground, seemingly taking deep breaths, having reverted from being the Hulk.

“I'm fine,” Bruce called out as Steve glanced down at him, “just let me sleep here for a second...”

“Wake up sunshine,” Tony walked over and knelt down next to Bruce as Steve hurried over to Thor. He saw Loki beyond them, standing near Jormungandr's prone body. There was black ichor still all over the place, but now, Steve saw the red blood mixing in with the black ichor and realized that Jormungandr's wound was more serious and also did not disappear after he had turned back to his human form.

“Thor?” Sif pushed past him and skidded to a stop as she knelt down next to Thor, “Thor?!”

Thor groaned again and blearily opened his eyes. They were a clear familiar blue and Steve breathed out a sigh of relief that he did not know he had been holding. “It is as if a thousand bilgesnipes trampled through my head,” Thor groaned as he gingerly sat up, Mjolnir tumbling from his chest to land on the ground.

“You idiot!” Sif suddenly punched Thor on the shoulder, hard, and the Asgardian winced before glancing up at her.

“What was that for?!” he asked, rubbing his head.

“The bligesnipes, uh, that would be me, Thor,” Steve took a half step forward bringing the groggy Asgardian's gaze on him, “I, uh, kind of used Mjolnir to knock some sense into you.”

“Percussive maintenance always does the job when the sceptre is involved,” Natasha commented behind him and Steve could hear the smugness in her voice.

“You, Captain Rogers, used Mjolnir,” Thor stared at him and Steve nodded, a little apprehensive of what the thunder god's reaction was going to be. He received his answer as Thor suddenly bowed his head towards him, one arm across his chest. “I thank you, from the depths of my heart and soul for doing me such a great service. If you had not, if you had not been deemed worthy of Mjolnir, then I would have been forever lost. I do not know how to repay you, Captain-”

“Thor,” Steve held up a hand to stop Thor and the thunder god looked up, his eyes bright with unshed tears of gratefulness, “Thor, listen, we all would have done the same for each other. We're sorry it just took this long to get you back and not realize what Baldr's plans were when he lured us to the base. You don't have to repay me and there's no debts involved, all right?”

“But-”

“Take Steve on his offer, Thor, he ain't this generous,” Bucky suddenly spoke up near him and Steve blinked before looking at his best friend. There was a faint smile on Bucky's face and he almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

“I am glad to see you faring well since we had last met, Sergeant Barnes,” Thor nodded, understanding the humor for what it was as well as why Bucky had said those words.

“He fares well, but you, are an oafish idiot of the highest order who should have known better,” Hel's voice suddenly cut into their conversation and Steve found himself unable to move – much like when they had first encountered Hel in London.

He cursed silently for letting his guard down as out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the others also struggling to move, but was unable to. Hel was unpredictable and it was clear that she was up to something as he saw her walk into his line of vision and straight towards Thor who slowly stood up, the only one of them able to still move. Thor reached out and Mjolnir was instantly summoned to his hand.

“Lady Hel-”

“Loki freed me,” Hel replied with a wave of her hand, seemingly sending out howls of the damned that echoed eerily in Steve's ears. “It was in his capacity as King of Asgard since Odin bequeathed Gungnir to him after Asgard's fall.”

“Asgard...Asgard's fall...” Thor whispered before his expression closed and he seemingly pressed his lips together in anger, “I...I tried, I tried to warn him-”

“Your warnings are nothing but child's play. You should have known, Crown Prince Thor Odinson,” Hel's voice was still a monotone, but her eyes seemingly flashed with anger. Steve realized that he had never seen such an expression on her face nor her eyes that dark with anger. From what he remembered, she rarely showed any emotion, and even then she was seemingly fickle. Now, she was clearly showing something and it did not terrify him as much as it felt horrific. It was as if all of the weight of the dead was pressing on him, but he could not do anything but let it seep into his skin, into his pores, and into his blood. Was this truly Hel's power?

“Pardon a moment,” Hel suddenly turned and made a tugging motion. Steve heard chains before another faint spirit materialized, but this one was wrapped in ghostly chains of sorts. He realized that it was the spirit of the recently deceased Baldr.

“Sigyn,” she called out and the Valkyrie walked over, still holding onto Sleipnir's hand. The spirit had a beatific expression on his face, oblivious to what was happening around him, as if he could not see them.

He watched as Hel handed over the chains to Sigyn who took it with a solemn nod and a blink of her sightless fiery eyes. “Please do not burn Baldr no matter what you may think of him. I wish to conduct a proper judgment of his crimes.”

Sigyn merely nodded before looking beyond Hel's shoulder. Steve caught where her gaze had gone towards and saw Loki, now kneeling next to Jormungandr's body. He thought he caught the faint glimmer of a modular being placed on Jormungandr's chest, but could not tell. Turning his attention back to Sigyn, it did not take him long to come to the conclusion that the fire demon had been a part of Loki's coterie. She must have died when the coterie had first broken apart, but he would have thought that the dead did not linger on the living. It seemed Sigyn's action was contradictory of that.

“Finish your duties, Valkyrie. Whatever bound you to your coterie was shattered in death,” Muunin suddenly said before a quiet pop rendered the air and the two ravens flew towards Loki.

It seemed that was all that Sigyn needed as she suddenly disappeared in a ball of flames, leaving Hel still holding them in their place and Thor looking torn between anger and guilt.

“The choice was made, and he could have sacrificed what was most precious to him, but he did not. _He_ chose you,” Hel stated before crossing her arms in a very childish manner, “I hope you are happy.”

The caw of the ravens signaled the arrival of Loki as he saw Thor turn and take a few steps forward to meet Loki who was slowly walking towards them, Gungnir in his hands. He did not hear if words were exchanged between Thor and Loki, but saw Loki suddenly place Gungnir in Thor's hands, the ravens landing on Thor's shoulders signaling that Loki had truly transferred the weapon and command of the ravens to Thor. A bad feeling began to make itself known in the pit of his stomach as he saw Loki step back, the ever faint mischievous smile on his face.

The bad feeling exploded into dread as he saw Loki suddenly make a pulling motion across his face, as if he was draw the curtains away from something. Steve realized that the relatively hale, if tired looking visage was nothing more than an illusion. One that expertly covered up Loki's own struggle with the geas he had made with Thanos. Steve realized with a growing horror that when Asgard had been conquered, it was more than likely the same time Thanos had been freed and had begun to put pressure on Loki once more – echoing what had brought him to Earth three years ago in the aftermath of the Chitauri invasion. Whereas Sleipnir looked like he was drained of vitality and had a sallow look about him during his struggle with Baldr's geas on him, Loki's was more visceral – and it was one that Steve had seen before, three years ago on the Bifrost.

The familiar black stitches that ran a jagged criss-cross across Loki's lips had appeared, seemingly sewing his mouth together as blood congealed and fell from each painful stitch. His skin was peeling and flayed across parts of his exposed neck, face, and hands. Jagged slash marks oozed across his body, staining parts of his light armor and marring the color of his clothing. His hair looked stringy, almost unwashed and had an unnatural sheen that Steve realized was also blood.

“L-Loki...y-your-”

“A favor given is a favor returned, Hel,” Loki did not bother addressing Thor's shock at the sight of his real persona and instead, stared at Hel who met his gaze with an equal one.

“As you command, my Prince,” Hel replied before there was a feeling of incredible _wrong_ as Loki traced a thin blue line into the air.

_IwillnotfailIwillnotfailIwillnotfailIamtheTricksterGodIamLoki_

He walked into it and disappeared from their view.

As soon as he was gone, Steve found that he could move again. But instead of moving, he could only stare at the spot that Loki had folded the shadows of Yggdrasil around himself. He knew that Loki had gone to confront Thanos, but the only question left was, at what terrible cost?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April 16, 2017:
> 
> Hooboy...let's see...
> 
> First, many, many apologies for not posting this in over a year. A lot of things happened since my last posting back in February of 2016. For one thing, I had yet another loss in the family in the span of three months that ultimately killed the muses for a while as I sought to cope with it. Then there was a big move and new job/promotion that stymied some of the long-term writing. I also got sucked into an original project that I'm working on so that took away from writing fanfiction. But since the release of the new "Thor: Ragnarok" trailer, I've basically decided that I will finish this story no matter what. Without further ado, I present to you, the last 3 chapters of this story and of the Trickster series.


	21. Chapter 21

It did feel like a thousand bilgesnipes had trampled through his head, but Thor pushed the pain away from his mind, staring down at Gungnir which was on his hands. Mjolnir hung from his belt, seemingly a mournful weight, but a grateful hum in the back of his mind. He never knew what his weapon felt like until the moments in which he had struggled against wielding it – its weight heavier and heavier as it seemingly soured a note until he could not lift it anymore in battle against his friends. Even though his body and mind struggled to obey the heavy handed command that puppeteer him to attack his friends, the very small part of his mind that had constantly rebelled against Baldr's commands rejoiced that he could no longer lift Mjolnir.

He had waited for the blow to come, the one that would send him to Valhalla and oblivion – but it had not come and instead, the blow that _had_ been dealt freed him from the infernal control of the Infinity Stone Baldr wielded. But the cost...Thor had been appalled the moment Loki drew away the glamour that had been keeping his true visage hidden behind a placid facade. The cost... He tightened his grip on Gungnir, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he forced himself to breathe in and out in an effort to not give into the despair he felt. He would not use Mjolnir until he felt he was worthy again, and he knew it would be a long time before he felt worthy.

The soft caw of Huugin followed by the feeling of a hard beak pressing against his ear made him open his eyes again and he absently extended a hand out. The raven promptly flew to it and stared at him with beady black eyes. Huugin tilted his head a little, but Thor could not read what the raven's body language was saying, his head still hurting and Gungnir's weight still too fresh in his mind. Huugin suddenly hopped to his right as Muunin flew from his other shoulder and landed next to his brother. The other raven stared at him, its gaze simple and plain. With the two ravens next to each other, Thor was able to easily read their countenance, even in their animal forms. Huugin had sympathy to his plight, but Muunin – the raven did not indicate sympathy and a faint wistful smile appeared on Thor's lips. Muunin was so like Loki that he knew the two got along well whenever they were sent to summon them to the Allfather's audiences.

It was not lost on him – no matter Loki's needling words regarding his obliviousness to certain situations – what his brother had done. His time under Baldr's control gave him a clarity that he never wanted to experience again, but also made him more acutely aware of what had been sacrificed to get to this point. He had not known that his mother had died in the assault on Asgard and to find out before Baldr had forced him to fight Loki – it had made him push hard against the control the sceptre had over his countenance; and forced Baldr to concentrate on expending the necessary mental acuity to suppress his free will.

But the true cost...his brother had sacrificed so much to get him back – had risked death by defying his geas with Thanos to the point where he looked almost like he had on the Bifrost three years ago. Thor squeezed Gungnir again; he would not let such a thing happen and Loki would not face this battle alone. He would save his brother before he made another, in his opinion, foolish move against Thanos. He retracted his arm and the ravens flew into the air, flapping their wings above him as he turned, not to face his friends, but to the shapeshifting healer he had cleaved a mortal wound against during the battle.

Thor took a few steps towards Jormungandr's prone body, noting the trail of thick black ichor that glistened on the obsidian glass surface, mingling with the red trails of blood as the young man laid on the ground. The healer had shifted back to his human form, but the wound still left its ugly mark, bisecting from naval to the middle of his chest. He looked so pale and Thor would have thought him dead had it not been for the obvious green glow of healing that was faintly across the man's body as well as the fact that the gash was slowly sealing itself up, weeping occasional blood, but sealing itself nonetheless. He could see the dagger that Loki had constantly threatened him, and had stabbed him during their brief fight, resting near Jormungandr. It was obvious that Loki had left it for the young mage's care and keep as he knew his brother would never part with one of his favorite weapons.

“Will he survive?” he asked, sensing the the cold presence Hel near him as she took a single step forward.

“He was given what he needed. It is up to him to finish the rest,” Hel replied as the ravens circled around Jormungandr's body. To his surprise, Huugin landed near the prone man's body and absently lifted a wing as if to nudge something in place. Just as suddenly Huugin flapped and took off into the air, resuming his circle around them once more.

“There was a time when I would have said that my brother should not have spared a single drop of his magick when faced with a battle he cannot avoid, but it is a statement full of ignorance and fear,” he murmured as he felt Hel's cold presence draw closer.

“You would have been right, Crown Prince,” Hel replied, her voice a simple monotone. Gone was the derision and anger he knew he had heard in her tone earlier, especially compared to her regular monotone. He had never known Hel to even speak or raise her voice differently, having quite a different view of the world and the universe itself from her place as the Queen of Helheim.

“My brother asked you to do something,” he stated, looking at her. She had not changed much since he had last seen her two years ago during the sentencing. However, he did notice that her curls had started to turn from their normal light pink to a dark black, its current state half jet black, half pink. It seemed to be slowly turning all black as well as becoming more angular and sharp.

“A punishment rescinded is a request given freely,” Hel replied and Thor frowned a little.

He realized that whatever punishment had been handed down during her sentencing two years ago had been lifted by Loki during his brief regency as the Allfather. As much as he considered it a bad idea, especially with Hel's unpredictable nature, he knew that Loki would not have done it without asking for a favor in return. It was his brother's way, especially with someone who claimed to be part of his coterie – and if he was not mistaken by Baldr's endless rambling, a part of Odin's coterie. He nodded and turned to face his friends.

“Thank you,” he stated sincerely, “for what you have done. I am truly sorry for my actions-”

“Thor, they weren't yours, it's that stupid sceptre,” Barton fiddled with his bow, “you don't get the right to apologize.”

“Nonetheless, I feel I must,” Thor knew that Barton had felt guilty after what he had done to bring down the Helicarrier when he had been under Loki's spell. It felt the same, being under Baldr's control, a heavy hand on his presence, smothering him from within. He looked at his friends, noting how hard they had fought and his first thought was to leave them behind for what he was going to do, but pushed that thought aside. It was a very Loki thought, and he was not his brother.

“I ask you now, if I may borrow your strength and your friendship once more to help me take Asgard back,” he said quietly, drawing himself up, “I have no right to ask since you have returned me to my own mind at great cost.” He nodded towards where Captain Rogers was clearly showing the remnants of a horrific stab wound that had been inflicted upon him by Sleipnir. No one had gotten out of the battle unscathed, all battered and bruised in varying states. He took another deep breath, “I ask you, as my coterie, my friends.”

“No,” Stark suddenly spoke up, stepping forward with his armored hands raised, “no, no, no. Thor you've got this all wrong.”

Thor stared at his friend, wondering what had come over him.

“See, it's not you asking us, it's us _demanding_ that you take us,” the faceplate to his armor lifted up, revealing the man underneath with a very predatory smile akin to Loki's. “We're in it for the long haul, buddy. And it certainly isn't for Loki, if not for the shit that's happened here. See, I'm going because I just want undead lady over there to make note of this moment and rub it in Baldr's face when she sees him for judgment or whatever later on. The guy was bragging about how he was going to conquer Asgard and it was his, blah, blah, blah – I just want him to see his plan fall even more, even when he's dead. You can do that, right, Hel?”

Thor glanced over to see that Hel's hair had slowly resolved itself to an intricate headgear that he had only seen once and it was from a memory shared with him by Baldr during the previous coterie's days. Her hair was sharp, jagged, angular and terrifying to look at. Gone were the pink curls and in place was a blackness that could have sucked in the souls of the damned itself.

“Tony, there's usually a payment,” Barton muttered none too loudly.

“Okay, payment, I can do that,” Stark continued, “how about, um, the plain truth instead of, you know...” He waved his fingers absently in the air. “That hair thing you've been doing, is freaking me out. It's really freaky and scary and is it like a battle dress or something-”

“Tony, now would be a good time to shut up,” Romanov punched Stark in his armor and he quieted for a second before turning back to Thor.

“So, um, yeah, we're demanding you take us.”

Thor could only smile as the others nodded, even the very quiet Sergeant Barnes that he sympathized with. Though he could see that there was some improvement on James Barnes' countenance when close to Rogers, something seemed to still haunt the man and Thor knew that the path to healing would be a long one for him. “Thank you, my friends,” he said before turning to Hel. “Lady Hel, I do not know of your agreement with my brother for freeing you from your punishment, but I wish to know if you would be able to take us to Asgard? And if so, what can I do in my capacity as regent-King to pay for such a favor?”

“The favor was already given to you by my Prince, Crown Prince,” Hel replied, absently smoothing out a wrinkle on her dress. It sent an unexpected gale of seemingly silent howls across the vast obsidian glass plain. Thor resisted the urge to twitch at the feeling, but the others were not so lucky and grimaced as the unseen wind blew past them. “I will take you and your friends through the shadows of Yggdrasil to Asgard. However, I warn you that the Dark Elves have laid waste to Asgard itself and their leader, Malekith possesses an Infinity Stone.”

“Um, hey guys...” Dr. Banner spoke up, his voice quiet and a little worried and Thor turned to see the doctor holding the Chitauri sceptre that had plagued them since Loki had received it from Thanos.

He had opened his mouth to tell the doctor to release the weapon when he noticed that the blue encrusted jewel that normally sat on its crown was missing. In fact, without it, it just looked like a very ordinary glaive, albeit, one that was still coated in recent blood.

“Did Loki-” Rogers started faintly, but did not finish his thought.

“Hel?” Thor turned to the Queen of Helheim who merely shrugged.

“I know not what my Prince's thoughts are, Crown Prince,” she replied and Thor had a feeling that she did know, but was not inclined to tell him. He turned back and stared silently at emptied weapon, a little more than disturbed at the implication that Loki had not taken the whole weapon, but instead, had taken the Infinity Stone on it, the Mind Gem, instead. As far as he knew and again, from Baldr's ramblings when he had been laying his traps, only true-born magisters, not those who had studied the magickal arts for so long and called themselves magister, but those who were of blood were able to hold an Infinity Stone without being consumed by it.

It was why there was an Infinity Gauntlet in the vaults of Asgard, and why it was grafted on weapons made from Nidhogg's scales. As far as anyone knew, all true-born magisters had died, the last of them after Asgard had finished conquering the Jotuns.

“Faendral and Hogun were last seen defending the Vaults with the Allfather. We can use their help and the other Einhenjar if they have survived,” Sif spoke up, and he knew that she had been having the same thoughts he had. The Allfather must have been guarding the Vaults because of the Infinity Gauntlet and the Tesseract, which was why he was last seen there.

Thor was glad to see that she had escaped the carnage that had befallen Asgard, as he did not know if he could stand to hear news of her capture or even the thought of losing her. He had not even had time to properly mourn his mother's death. He looked up to the ravens circling overhead and lifted a hand up towards the sky. Huugin dropped down and landed on his outstretched fingers before hopping off of it and popped into his human form in the blink of an eye.

“My King,” the raven bowed his head a little.

“Will you espy if the prisoners are kept separate from the Allfather or are they in the prisoners underneath the palace?” Thor asked.

There was a flicker of change in the Huugin's expression before he opened his mouth, “The prisoners were taken underneath the palace-”

The raven unexpectedly coughed. Thor was not the only one to stare at what had come out of the raven's mouth with the cough. Blood. Even Huugin seemed shocked as he absently wiped his lip and stared at the smear of blood on his hand. “O-Odin...”

Thor forced himself to remain calm as he gripped Gungnir tighter in his hand. Somehow, Thanos or perhaps Malekith had discovered that Odin had been been using the ravens to communicate and had retaliated. Otherwise, there was no other explanation to why Huugin had suddenly coughed up blood.

He looked up at Hel, his gaze hard and serious. “Hel, take us to the dungeons, we need to go now-” He did not finish his sentence as he saw the familiar thin blue line of the drawn shadows of Yggdrasil materialize and the sudden feeling of _wrong_ that seemingly writhed around him before with another blink of his eyes, he found the black obsidian sea of molten glass replaced by the cool burnished golden hues of the dungeons and the rank smell of unwashed prisoners. There was not even a single haunting whisper that usually heralded the drawing of Yggdrasil's shadows.

Thor found himself standing face to face with a Dark Elf that seemed to be equally surprised to see him there. A quick assessment of his surroundings told him that his friends had also arrived, but that there were several other Dark Elves that guarded those that survived the initial battle and had been imprisoned here. He could feel the sense of wrongness fading away as he lifted Gungir up and gave the Dark Elf a mirthless smile. “Greetings,” he stated in a falsely cheerful voice before firing a golden blast that tore through the Dark Elf.

The prison erupted into chaos.

* * *

_IwillnotfailIwillnotfailIwillnotfailIamtheTricksterGodIamLoki_

 

The throne room looked almost untouched save for the clear signs of battle – scorch marks, jagged slashes of swords that missed or hit their target. The most obvious thing that did not belong there was Thanos, sitting on the burnished throne that was usually occupied by the Allfather. Odin Allfather himself was standing nearby, hands bound, looking uninjured except for the fact that his armor bore several burnt marks. Heimdall, bound next to him, fared worse, the Guardian bearing a wicked looking jagged cut that ran down one side of his face, that could have blinded him in one eye except his both golden eyes were open and staring defiantly at Thanos on the throne. He surmised that Heimdall had been healed as Eir also stood nearby, though the chief healer looked unharmed.

Loki was a little glad to see that she was relatively unharmed as he did not know what he would have done if someone laid a hand on her. Erikur the Archmage was nearby as was a couple of other courtiers, but all of them were bound and it seemed like they had been forced to stand for the last few days since Asgard had been conquered. He heard the sound of weapons being drawn behind him and knew that his sudden arrival had startled the Dark Elves that had been guarding the throne room door.

However, Thanos lifted a finger and the weapons were sheathed as Loki turned and sealed the rip that he had drawn into the shadows of Yggdrasil. The whispers quieted and he threw a sardonic smile at the guards, noting that there were only eight of them. They did not respond to his smile and stared straight ahead like automatons.

“You certainly took your time, my pet,” Thanos spoke up, his voice echoing across the cavernous throne room. From his vantage point, Loki could see the distinct cuboid shape of something near Thanos' side. The Tesseract.

Loki turned back and walked slowly towards Thanos. The wounds he had suffered battling Thor, then protecting himself from Sleipnir's geas attack, and finally trading blows with Baldr threatened his concentration, but he pushed the pain aside. It was inconsequential to this very moment. It would heal, and the minor healing spell he had cast dulled some of the pain. Instead, he spread his senses out for any Dark Elf that might have been hidden in the shadows. He was particularly wary of the one called Malekith, who had attacked him with the unnatural red jagged shards of the Aether, the Reality Stone.

“You would know,” he retorted, languidly taking his time. Though there was nothing to prevent any of Thanos' captive audience from saying anything, Loki was glad that none of them dared to speak up. However, he did note that Eir, of all of them, had a deep frown on her face – more than likely a reaction to his bloodied visage courtesy of his resistance to the geas.

It certainly hurt, the black stitching on his lips, constantly pulling and bleeding into his mouth from his words. It felt as new as the day he had committed to the geas with Thanos and its consequences. But Loki pushed the pain aside, pain was negligible and unimportant to what he needed to do – what he _had_ to do. The stitching of his lips was the most visible of the punishment he had been enduring and glamouring since he felt Thanos escape the Tesseract prison, ripples of agony crawling up and down his spine, spreading from his hands to his feet. It was like stepping on shards of glass, each step that once felled him on the Bifrost, made him stumble and nearly die, but now, Loki resolutely ignored it. It was unimportant.

“Come now, my pet,” Thanos chided, “you had every opportunity to leave the pitiful band, leave your unworthy brother, and be by my side.”

“And yet you would not leave the Chitauri sceptre in the hands of one who had failed you so long ago, Thanos,” he shot back and knew he had struck true with his words as Thanos stiffened a little, glaring at him before a wide smile graced his monstrous features.

“Do you seek forgiveness with your slaying of Baldr Borson?” Thanos asked before gesturing with a hand towards Odin, “or was it something you wished to present to Odin Allfather? He was very foolish for not believing you-”

“Yes he was,” Loki arched a look at Odin who only stared back with an unreadable expression on his face, “taken in by Sleipnir. He should have known better. Twas a pity that his actions resulted in my mother's death.”

“Lady Frigga-”

“Heimdall, you know it to be true,” Loki cut Heimdall off as he stopped at the base of the steps that led up to the throne and glared at the Guardian. “If you had espied Thor, or even if you espied what Sleipnir had done to release the Aether, _none_ of this would have happened. You, Odin, even Eir were too complacent, too forgiving to see the snake in your garden that was Sleipnir.”

He turned back to Thanos, “You're welcome, Thanos.”

The Mad Titan's eyes narrowed, “I have not given you thanks, _pet_.”

“But you should be thanking me; for getting rid of Baldr and Sleipnir. That is one less son you have and one less sycophant you must deal with,” Loki replied as he kept his senses spread out. He could not see or sense any sign of Malekith, but he could _feel_ the hum of power somewhere in the room due to what he was holding. He absently wiped parts of his chin, mindful of the stitches, and glanced down at the blood that dripped from it.

“So you have,” Thanos sat back, his fingers tapping the arm of the throne, “then I ask you this, _pet_ -”

Loki finally sensed the hum of power consolidate behind him and out of the corner of his eyes, saw the Dark Elf named Malekith step out from the shadows of one of the pillars. The Elf's eyes were a blood red, having absorbed the Aether into his very being. His face was a pale visage of veins and decay, another sign that the Infinity Stone was consuming the Dark Elf's life force. But Loki had a feeling that the Dark Elf did not care – so great was his revenge against Asgard that he was willing to sacrifice his life if it meant wielding one of the objects created from time immemorial. He let part of his senses engulf the Dark Elf, hoping to anticipate what was to happen.

“-where is the sceptre and the Gauntlet,” Thanos finished, staring at him with his icy blue eyes.

Loki felt the slight tug of pain and pressed his lips thinly together. This close to Thanos, he could certainly feel the pull of the geas and knew that resistance to what was negotiated would be harder. Still, he managed to smile, though he swallowed a mouthful of the coppery tang of blood before replying, “The sceptre is on Midgard-”

The pain eased every so slightly as he answered with the truth.

“-The Gauntlet, also on Midgard-”

The pain became a thin razor, not sharp, but hovering there as the geas sensed his half-truth. He could see the flares of surprise on Odin and Heimdall's faces as they realized that the Gauntlet that they had tried to protect in the Vault was not there. A bitter well of disappointment flared in him as he thought about how complacently idiotic they were – to not even notice the illusion he had cast when he had first stolen the Gauntlet from the Vaults after Thanos had battled his way to the Helicarrier and taken him. It had been a very real Gauntlet that he had based his tessellation illusion on, except he had kept it for himself in the aftermath and Odin had not even bothered to verify its authenticity when it had supposedly been placed back into the Vaults.

Thanos' eyes narrowed, having sense the half-truth, but before he could do anything, he suddenly lashed out and Loki turned to see Odin grimacing, blood pouring from a split lip.

“You lie,” Thanos did not even deign Odin another look as Loki met his glare straight on.

“Yes,” he replied just as the doors to the throne room opened.

“Lord Malekith!” the Dark Elf messenger shouted from the door, “we are under attack by Thor and a group of Midgardians! They have breached the prison levels!”

Loki smiled inwardly. Odin must have been telling one of the ravens where the prisoners were located and Thanos caught wind of it. However, it was too late as the motions of his plan were firmly in place. All that was left to do was to see it to its end. He extended his senses further out and subtly started to weave what he needed to finally rid himself of Thanos once and for all.

“Deal with it,” Thanos ordered with a blithe wave of his meaty hand.

Loki could see Malekith glare at Thanos, but did as he was ordered and walked away, the door closing moments later. As soon as the doors to the throne room closed, Thanos glared at him, rising from his seat and stared down, his icy blue eyes blazing with fury. “Where, is it, _pet_ ,” he all but roared.

“On Midgard-”

“ _YOU LIE!_ ” Loki knew that Thanos was fast, but even he was not prepared by how fast the Mad Titan moved, suddenly charging down the stairs from the throne itself and he barely managed to lift a hand to protect his neck from being ruthlessly crushed as the Mad Titan grabbed him by the throat and all but hauled him into the nearest pillar.

Stars exploded across his vision and he saw spots of black appear before the bone-crushing force of Thanos' hand pressed down upon his windpipe. He choked, blood pouring from his lips and dripping down his chin as he felt the razor sharp pain of the geas stab deep into him. He dared not look at the others, knowing that they were merely there as an audience for Thanos to showcase his power and command. Instead, he drew in the barest sliver of breath as Thanos slammed him again into the pillar, sending spidery cracks all over the place.

“ _Do not lie_ ,” the Mad Titan demanded and it echoed across the geas bond they had, making Loki writhe in agony as he felt it dig into his mind, into his very soul. It clawed and tore at him, a singular pain that would have crushed him- It had crushed him-

“I own you Trickster God,” the Mad Titan growled, his breath hot against his face, spittle mingling with the blood and flecks of cuts that poured down his face.

Loki could only hoarsely laugh, choking as he drew in precious slivers of breath as he struggled and tried to push against the Mad Titan's hold on his throat. He could feel his fingers slowly bend, almost to their breaking point as Thanos tightened his grip every so slightly. “T-That,” he managed to choke out, “may be t-true...M-Mad...T-Titan...but I-I own...you t-too.”

Icy blue eyes narrowed, and Loki gasped, hearing the creak of bones in his own ears, his air supply rapidly getting cut off. “You were s-supp-osed to g-give m-me an army t-that would c-con-q-quer Midgard,” he tried to draw in a breath, but there was none, “That a-army f-failed.”

He felt an unusual pulse run through his very core and saw the Mad Titan's eyes widen in both surprise and pain. The intense pressure on his throat and hand suddenly lessened and Thanos retracted his hand and stumbled back a step, as if burned. Loki nearly fell forward and managed to catch himself. At the same time Thanos grunted and he looked up to see the hand that had been gripping his throat suddenly show wicked jagged looking slashes. Purple-red blood poured forth from the deep wounds and Loki's eyes narrowed, but he dared not look around as he knew where the slashes had come from. The idiot...

He pushed himself up, rubbing his throat a little as he cast a minor healing spell around it to dull the pain and knit the fracture bones together. “You are the only one who has not fulfilled their bargain.”

Thanos roared, his fury and anger at his words evident, but before he could take another step towards him again, the throne room doors opened. Both turned to stare at Thor as he lumbered in, Mjolnir gripped tightly in his hand. The smell of ozone and electrical discharge from Mjolnir was evident as he pointed the hammer straight at Thanos. “Thanos! You will release my father and brother-”

Thanos waved his hand and Loki was nearly thrown back by the wave of power that emanated from the wordless spell. He glanced back to see Thor frozen in riposte, near the base of the throne room, around the same spot that Malekith had appeared from behind the shadows of the pillars. Thor's hammer was extended, a righteous anger on his face. It was eerily the same exact pose that Thor had adopted when they had first battled Thanos on the Bifrost. Loki turned back to see the Mad Titan bare his teeth and glower at him.

“I hope you watch Allfather, as I crush your son and your foolish adopted son, that whelp of a Jotun whose bloodline should have died long ago in the race of conquers,” the Mad Titan sneered, all the while keep his gaze firm on Loki. “I am _not_ the only one who has not kept to the bargain-” he started to address him, but Loki shook his head.

“You have the Tesseract, Thanos,” he gestured towards the cuboid shape that was in a pouch of sorts on Thanos' belt. “The geas contract was fulfilled, though I expect not in the way you wished it to be. But I was able to deliver it to you.” Loki had several geas contracts fulfilled in his lifetime, the most recent ones were with SHIELD Director Nicholas J. Fury, but even then, he knew he would not feel anything, the geas contract with Thanos corrupted and twisted beyond belief. Still, he held out a sliver of hope for the moment.

And it passed just as quickly as Thanos seemed to have awaited that moment and when it did not come, started to laugh. The Mad Titan's laughter grew louder before he smile maliciously at him. “You, are nothing more than a fool who think he is the Trickster God.”

Loki tensed one hand tingling with the spell for fireballs, the other ready to reach down to draw out his dagger, same one had stabbed Thor with during their brief fight. He knew Thanos was going to attack, the question was where and from what direction-

The sudden gurgling sound that echoed across the cavernous throne room made him turn, his eyes widening in shock as he saw that Thanos had used the Tesseract to instantly transport himself in less than a blink of an eye to behind Thor. Heimdall's sword, Hovud, gutted Thor from behind, stabbing straight through his brother's heart. Thor's eyes were a mask of pain and blood poured down the corners of his lips as Loki could only stare helplessly at the fatal wound. Thanos' smile was malevolent and sinister, taunting him with his inability to stop him.

Loki realized that he had freed himself from the geas, but the cost was what was most precious to him...Thor.

And in that fateful moment, Thanos had his victory.

* * *

While Mjolnir was Thor's primary and favored weapon, he had also trained in a multitude of weaponry and so wielding Gungnir was not unfamiliar. He spun it in his hands, mimicking what his teachers had taught him, and sliced through the armor of one Dark Elf before blasting another one square in the chest. Both fell to the ground, dead as he kicked another to the side who was taken down by Sif's flashing blades. Near him, he heard Volstagg's laughter, and Faendral's cries of victory as they too felled their opponents. Only Hogun was silent, but Thor was well versed in the other man's blades which whispered death. His three friends had been the first freed from the prisons, courtesy of Hel's mirror reflective magick that brought down the barriers.

The Queen of Helheim was currently languidly walking down the main path of the dungeons, her hand seemingly gliding over the barrier magick of the prisons themselves, shattering them with the barest of ease. Thor had noted that only a few of the Dark Elves had dared to confront her and they had been instantly turned to ash with a single lone finger pointed at them. Even he had to admit that she exuded a terrifying wash of power, and had wondered if she was not his ally, would she had conquered Asgard as a whole. She certainly seemed to have displayed the power, but Thor was glad that in this moment, Hel fought for them – or rather, she fought for Loki.

He twisted Gungnir in his hand and reversed his grip, knocking a Dark Elf that had been trying to run up to him from behind where the creature was felled by an expert gunshot shot from Romanov. The injuries he had received from Loki and his friends as he had fought them pulled and hurt, but he pushed the pain aside.

The ravens had disappeared as soon as they had arrived at the dungeons, but Thor supposed that they were eager to return to Odin's service now that Gungnir was in the same place as their master. The ravens were bound to serve Odin and by extension Gungnir, but he had surmised that if Gungnir was separated from Odin, they were bound to the staff itself. Their disappearance proved his theory true.

But he did not mind their absence as he felt that they would more than likely try to free Odin or provide assistance to Loki if need be. His brother was an idiot of the highest order who thought he needed to fight every single battle alone. Thor secretly hoped that the ravens would disrupt whatever foolhardy plan his brother had in place in his confrontation with Thanos and remind his idiot brother that he had allies and friends. That what he had done for him was not in vain.

He cut through several more Dark Elves, blast one or two with Gungnir's innate power as he and the rest of his friends went deeper into the dungeons. “ Einhenjar!” he called out to those freed from their prisons, “to me!”

Thor kicked a Dark Elf square in the chest as it tried to skewer him and the Elf fell back where it was brought down by Captain Rogers' shield and Sergeant Barnes' powerful metal arm. Near him, Sam Wilson used his wings to shield the return fire from the Dark Elves that had ranged weaponry and Stark was blasting away at the distant targets. The Hulk roared his defiance as he ran head long into the Dark Elves, using their corpses as battering rams and hammers against the living ones. Thor felt Gungnir hum in his hand and fired off a long blast, sweeping it across the expanse of the prison's hallways as it cut through stone, metal, and barriers.

He moved forward the Einhenjar gathering around him, picking up discarded weaponry or wielding makeshift ones as they continued forward. Thor could feel his blood singing with battle, the righteouness of re-taking Asgard fresh on his mind, fueling each step towards the throne room. It was a slow and steady advance, but Thor could see the stairs that led up to the palace and charged up, firing Gungnir and blasting a hole through it. He pushed through with a roar of victory on his lips and immediately slashed at the nearest Dark Elf guard, cleaving the female elf in half.

Her dying screams were cut off by Sif swiftly decapitating the head as they rounded the corner. “Einhejar, spread out and clear the palace of the filth of the Dark Elves!” he called out, gesturing with a hand, “Volstagg, Hogun, you're in charge of them!”

“As ordered,” his friends replied and he watched the two of them take a majority of the Einhenjar to sweep out the remnants of the Dark Elves.

He was mildly surprised that their leader had not shown up yet. From what he gathered by Baldr's memories extracted from Sleipnir through their shared geas, Malekith had used the Aether to debilitate and ruin Asgard's remaining defenses after the intial wave had been disabled by Sleipnir. The fact that Malekith had not come out yet made Thor worry that the Dark Elf leader was more than likely in the throne room, which meant that Loki was facing off against two who wielded the Infinity Stone.

He was worried that Loki, even though he supposedly possessed the Mind Gem – considering that it was missing from the crown of the Chitauri sceptre, would not be able to handle two opponents who had possession of two of the most powerful Infinity Stones. Thor fired off another long blast from Gungnir, raking it through several waves of Dark Elves as the rest were felled by both bullets from Romanov and arrows from Barton.

“I'm out!” Barton suddenly called out.

“Here!” one of the Einhenjar who had followed them called back and Thor nodded his approval at the man who threw Barton a pack of arrows from one of the nearby statues. Arrows had long fell out of fashion for weaponry as they preferred bladed weapons sorts, but they were still considered practical and thus many of the statues that were scattered across the throne room contained weapons.

It was one of the very few things that was not taken into consideration for most of the assassination attempts on the royal household. Thor remembered the one thing that Frigga had shot an assassin who had tried to kidnap him when he was a very young boy with a bow and arrow that had seemingly been molded to a statue depicting ethereal beauty. He saw the others who had no weaponry and had been fighting with their bare hands reach out and strip the statues of their weapons as they slowly advance towards the throne room.

“Show them no mercy unless they surrender!” he called out as he saw the Einhenjar surge ahead and take down many of the Dark Elves that were seemingly caught off guard. Still, their leader did not show. Thor advanced forward and was soon at the throne room doors.

“Go! We'll deal with the others!” Sif called out and Thor threw the doors open to the throne room.

What greeted him was a sight he knew would be forever seared into his mind. Loki was holding the Mind Gem in all of its raw unchecked power.

* * *

Thanos had his victory.

But he did not know he had his defeat.

The gurgling sounds of a choking cough filled the air of silent throne room as the two bound through geas stared at each other. Despair seemingly hung in the air as did the taste of absolute victory and malevolent intent. Between the two silent combatants, did the bloody life of Thor ebb away, when just as suddenly Thanos pulled Hovud out of Thor's body and Loki watched as the body, drained of its blood crashed to the ground. Blue, nearly lifeless eyes stared up at him. They seemingly pleaded with him, but he could not feel a single thing for such blue eyes.

Instead, he looked plainly at Thanos. “Have you struck true, Mad Titan?” he asked.

The victoriously smug smile on the Mad Titan's face became stilted and Loki finally allowed his own smug one to appear on his lips. He lifted his chin and stared imperiously at Thanos before he drew away the first of many layers he had carefully laid down since he had killed Baldr, even before he had arrived in the throne room. The mortally wounded visage of Thor kneeling on the ground dissolved to reveal that it was not Thor that had been stabbed, but rather Malekith. Right where 'Thor' had supposedly been halted by Thanos' magick. He had entrapped Malekith's mind as soon as he had arrived.

The blood pouring from the Dark Elf leader's wound was just that, but also of the glistening red-black liquid that was the Aether. The liquid-like Infinity Stone was draining not into a puddle around Malekith, but rather towards one of the pillars. Loki caught Thanos' icy blue eyes and his smile widened a little as he drew away another layer of illusion he had cast, revealing Huugin in his human form with an elongated modular container that had been in the Vaults. The raven had not bother looking up, but instead, one hand was on the ground, the spellwork of scrying drawing the Aether towards the containment module.

“Your thought of containing those who had known of the Infinity Stones and how to call to it failed when you forgotten that Odin's coterie had contained two others who became his familiars. Your arrogance overlook those who blended into the shadows and background of the Court,” he said as he drew away yet another layer.

The image of Odin and the others bound dissolved to reveal that they had been recently freed of their bonds. Muunin stood in his human form with his black short swords drawn in front of Odin, an imperious look on his face.

Loki's smile grew wider as he saw rage suffuse Thanos' purple skin. He waved a hand in the air and drew away yet another layer. This one showed that the eight Dark Elves that had been guarding the throne room with their throats slit from ear to ear. “The Lord of Swords' handiwork, Thanos,” he gestured back towards Muunin who upon second glance, had blades were thoroughly coated in blood. They dripped with deliberate precision onto the floor of the throne room.

Thanos roared at him before turning and throwing Heimdall's sword at Huugin in a last ditch attempt to take the Reality Stone for himself. But even before the sword could skewer the human-formed raven Muunin popped into existence, blades flashing as he protected his brother. Hovud was deflected, clattering to the ground as Thanos roared again.

“You see,” Loki started as the throne room doors opened once more, but this time they stayed open as Thor, the Avengers, and Hela stepped through. Beyond them, Loki saw the Einhenjar, Sif, Hogun, Faendral, and Volstagg fighting the remnants of the Dark Elf army. Most of the Dark Elves were surrendering as they did not have the power of Malekith and the Realty Stone guiding them anymore. Surprise had been on the ancient creatures' side when they had attacked Asgard, surprise and the lowered defenses. Now, they had nothing and Loki did not care if they were all slaughtered or captured.

He drew away the last layer of illusion spellwork he had – the one upon himself. Gone were the remnants of the black stitches that defined his resistance and punishment of the geas, but his lips still felt tender from its recent release. The geas _had_ been fulfilled once he had spelled out the stipulations of the contract. But it had only been fulfilled just so and it was not the only thing that was revealed with the release of his spellwork.

He could see himself reflected in Thanos' icy blue eyes that widened fractionally in surprise. So that was what happened when one gripped an Infinity Stone without any buffers towards the power. Loki studied himself in the reflection of Thanos' eyes as his wounds glowed bright yellow, reflecting the power of the Mind Gem coursing through his body, consuming what it could. His eyes were a dark golden color as he stared at Thanos. His left hand gripped the stone tightly in his fist, its bright golden yellow glow visible even enclosed in his fingers. He knew it should have hurt, but it did not as he kept the Infinity Gem fed with the reservoirs of his own power and that of his blood. Loki reached up towards his chest with his free hand and drew out the completed geas, still a crackling electric black ball of _wrong_ , a testament to the twisted nature of his geas contract.

“ _You see_ ,” he started again, letting the power of the Infinity Gem color his voice as he stared at Thanos with a simple look, “ _what I wish you to see, Mad Titan. Nothing more, nothing less._ ”

Thanos roared again, anger evident as he glanced back towards Thor and the others slowly advancing forward, their weapons primed and ready. Gungnir led the charge, Thor holding it with the intent of his place as regent-King of Asgard. The Mad Titan threw his hand out towards them, a wave of magick cascading a deadly intent- But was suddenly nullified like shattering glass as Hel stepped forward and lifted her hand. The magick crumpled against her mirrored spell, dissipating it harmlessly over the others. Loki saw Thanos look at him again, and in that split second that their eyes met, the icy blue eyes of the Mad Titan narrowed-

Loki suddenly found himself staring down at the tip of Heimdall's blade protruding from the middle of his chest. It oddly did not hurt as much as he thought it would, but that thought became extraneous as he heard Thanos rumble above him, victory evident in his tone.

“ _For all of your brilliance and trickery, you cannot defeat what is not there in your illusions_ ,” there was something different about Thanos' voice and Loki did not need to turn around to know that Thanos had used the Tesseract's power to teleport behind him and was essentially holding it without any protective barrier or weaponry.

In less than a blink of an eye, Thanos must have picked Hovud fro where it fell and stab him before he could react. Loki choked as he tasted the familiar coppery sensation of blood in his mouth. He could feel the literal void of power behind him, the two Infinity Stones reacting so close to one another, siphoning the life of their users as they threatened to overwhelm their mortal beings.

“ _I did not see that coming_ ,” he admitted, before with a snap of his fingers, the illusion dissolved for the final time.

_IHAvesTrINgsBuTNOwIseE_

The twisted corrupted portal of Yggdrasil sang with the power of the Infinity Stones. It had been opened by the sickening power of a geas, an _electric blue-black_ line of _wrong_ that crossed the souls of those who used it. There were no whispers, no fear, nothing but the rage, anger, indignation, fury, and _absolute power_ behind the intent. He appeared _behind_ Thanos, ensnaring him with its power. It was as if a second Loki stepped through the portal he created, as the first one slowly dissolved away like an after image, golden flakes of power that was part of the Mind Gem.

Loki thrust the glaive that was made from the Casket of Ancient Winters through Thanos' chest, right where his heart was and fired a blast of the icy Jotun magister powers of ancient yore into the wound. He could see the ice travel through each of Thanos' veins, freezing his blood as it raced its deadly power through the Mad Titan, sealing him in place as the innate power of the Casket reacted to both its creators – the Mind Gem and the Space Gem that was once the Tesseract.

“ _But neither did you see that coming, Mad Titan_ ,” he finished as he pulled the blade out of Thanos body and watched it fall to the ground, shattering to a thousand frozen pieces. Loki watched with dispassionate eyes as the pieces rolled down the stairs of the throne room where one stopped by the foot of a robed being that had suddenly appeared.

He looked up to see that everyone else had stopped, Hel keeping them back with an arm held away from her body. Even the Allfather had stopped from where he had been approaching from behind, recognizing the robed being. The robed being in question was a very familiar sight as Loki smiled faintly.

“Hello, Death,” he greeted, “come to collect your lover?”

* * *

_IHAvesTrINgsBuTNOwIseE_

 

There was a time when Thor would not have admitted that he had never really believed that Loki was familiar with Death, nor that Hel's supposed mother was actual Death. But this was not the time as he stared at the robed figure that had suddenly appeared without warning after Thanos' frozen body shattered into a thousand pieces. He wanted nothing more than to cower, to hide, to never want to see literal Death so close to him, yet he forced himself to do none of that. He instead, embraced the astonishment that was his brother _talking_ to Death as if she, he, it were an old friend. It kept him grounded, rooted instead of letting the fear consume him.

“Yes,” the one word reply from the mouth of Death carried like a whisper above them, but Thor shuddered to hear it. A skeletal hand reached out and drew away the hood, revealing what looked like the most startling and hauntingly beautiful feminine being in the world.

Her, there was no other way he could call Death 'it' anymore, not with her features. Her feature were of an ethereal quality and Thor thought he saw perhaps a hint of Frigga, Sif, even Jane in her face. But it kept shifting every so slightly, as if it was alive in some way. That in of itself contradicted everything Thor knew as he furrowed his brow, staring at her as his mind tried to make sense of what it was seeing. He understood why now there were stories of beings going mad after seeing Death. It was a mental effort on his part to not react or think too hard about Death's ever changing features. How Loki had ever not gone mad added to his growing astonishment – his brother had a hardier mental fortitude than he had ever given him credit for – especially for what he had just done to Thanos.

Loki suddenly extended his hand out, the one holding the Mind Gem and Thor watched as the unnatural golden-yellow glow that had seemingly consumed his brother slowly die until on the small gem glowed in his brother's outstretched palm. He knew the lore behind the Infinity Stones, every single Asgardian knew of the Infinity Stones and how no one except for those who had the bloodlines or created the Stones themselves could wield one without Nidhogg's scales or some form of protective container. His brother somehow mitigated the destructive power of an Infinity Stone by sheer force of will. He did not know how, but it had not been the same for Thanos when he had wielded the Tesseract bare handed. Thor had seen the Mad Titan's skin slowly peel away, almost as if its power was cooking him alive from within. Thanos had been in clear pain when desperation had overridden caution and forced him to use the Tesseract against Loki.

Death's withered skeletal hand reached out and plucked the gem from Loki's hand. This time, Thor could not keep the shudder from his body at the unseen power that seemingly rippled through the air. The ripples stopped as a familiar looking blue enclosure sprang up from Death's hand around the Mind Gem. She set the enclosed gem on the ground before kneeling and touched a finger on one of the frozen parts of Thanos and seemingly drew out a thin blue threaded line. To Thor, it looked eerily similar to whenever Loki had drawn at the shadows of Yggdrasil.

The thin threads quickly consolidated themselves into an equally familiar cuboid form of the Tesseract. The Tesseract was set down next to the enclosed Mind Gem and Thor could not help but stare at the two Infinity Stones resting near Death's feet. There was power in those two stones and it was easy to imagine what it must have been like to feel the power even if there was no one to wield it. No wonder good men had gotten drunk on such heady feeling. The Infinity Stone were exceptionally dangerous – and if he did not believe it back when he had learned the stories about them, he certainly believed them now.

_IHAvesTrINgsBuTNOwIseE_

He almost missed the moment where Death reached out to Thanos' shattered corpse once more before it dissolved away. However, unlike the ghostly spectral image of Baldr and Slepinir, there was nothing left to mark where the Mad Titan had fallen.

“A few centuries perhaps?” Loki asked and Thor could almost hear the familiar lilting disdain in his brother's voice as he asked the question.

Death only tilted her head, neither an agreement nor disagreement with Loki's question. It too him a moment to realize that his brother had asked that Thanos, however now in Death's literal embrace, would not be released or even revived until several centuries later. Did that mean that Thanos was not truly dead? Could he not be killed? Moreover, the realization of where his brother's question had come from dawned on him – Loki had made a _bargain_ with Death.

And it had been when he had first died in his arms on the Bifrost that fateful day three years ago.

“W-What...” Thor found that his throat was dry before he forced himself to whet it and spoke up again, taking a small step forward, “what is the price, L-Loki?” His brother may have claimed to have known Death before all that had happened, but it could have been more lies and falsehoods his brother was known to spin. However, he most certainly knew that Loki _knew_ Death in the moments that he had actually died before Helblindi revived him with the Casket of Ancient Winters.

Loki turned to face him and Thor felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at the very _real_ wound that his brother had received from Thanos. Or was it the same wound from three years before, he could not tell. Blood dripped down the gold-green cloths of his tunic and overcoat. A neatly jagged stab wound through the middle of his chest courtesy of either Hovud or Thanos' dagger. Whatever it was, there was no glamour, no illusion, nothing...

And in that moment another horrifying realization dawned on Thor – the price his brother paid to deliver Thanos to Death. For all that Thanos claimed to love Death and shower her with the corpses of his slain enemies, he had not thought of what Death really wanted, was Thanos himself. A bargain must have been struck in the minutes that Loki had truly died and all that had happened since then, everything in the last three years, had been for this very moment. It did not matter about Loki's geas, nor the coterie, nor Thanos' escape or the destruction of Asgard and the heralding of Ragnarok – all of it was for Loki to deliver Thanos to Mistress Death.

And the price was his brother's life.

Furious anger filled Thor as he turned and glared at Death. “Has my brother _not_ given enough?!” he asked, thumping Gungnir down onto the ground. It sent a shower of power spreading like ripples upon the water through the throne room, but he did not care. “Must he now pay with it for his life?!”

“It is a fair bargain, Crown Prince Thor Odinson,” it was not Death that answered, but rather Hel who stepped in between him and Death. She looked imperious with her headdress the shape of razor sharp angular branches of sorts. However, he could see that the headdress was slowly losing its form, her hair turning from it's black form slowly into colors that might have been its light pink curls, but it was still too soon to tell.

“It is _not_ -”

“It was a life only thus with a bargain made in understanding of Death itself,” Hel cut him off ruthlessly. She abruptly turned and bowed her head towards Loki, “My Prince, your choice precedes your reputation as always. It was an option not considered.”

“But an option, nonetheless,” Loki replied. For a moment Thor saw the ruler that his brother could have, perhaps should have, become. One who could easily wield Gungnir and bring about a new golden age of Asgard; one that straddled the lines of both conquerors and peacekeepers. Gungnir suddenly felt so heavy in his hands – and Thor felt he was unworthy. But that moment was gone as he watched Loki bow his head towards Death. There was nothing else for his brother, not with Death standing in front of him – in the literal and figurative sense.

“If I may, Death, one last request?” his brother asked.

“Yes,” her agreement chilled the air once more and Thor felt tears spring to the corner of his eyes. This was not the way he wished to say his farewells to his brother. Not like this, not after what Loki had done to bring him back from Baldr's hold on his mind. Not after everything they had been through. This was not-

Thor's thoughts abruptly halted as he saw the barest hint of mirth appear in Loki's expression. “Catch me, if you can,” Loki's expression resolved itself into a familiar one of mischievous dark humor before he suddenly pulled at the thin electric-black line that he had appeared from to stab Thanos in the back and drew it around himself.

_IHAvesTrINgsBuTNOwIseE_

Loki had literally escaped from Death's grip. In front of Death itself. The portal was soon sealed as the whispered singing and horrifying feeling slowly ebbing away, but Thor could only stare at the point where his brother had made good on his escape. He had forgotten that the portal Loki had used to trick and defeat Thanos had been left open all this time. It was only the childish giggle from Hel, of all beings, snapped him out of his shocked funk to see that she had reverted completely back to her normal form with light pink curls, glasses perched on her nose, and her formless dress emitting the howls of the damned.

“You were a very good teacher to the Trickster God, mother,” Hel laughed lightly and Thor looked up to see, for what he supposed was the very first time, Death with a smile on her face.

“Yes.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was never my intention to do a grand finale gigantic battle between Loki and Thanos. I had the latter half of the confrontation planned long ago during the first initial drafts of Atonement. I always thought that the battle between Thanos and Loki was always one of trickery and deceit and involved small fast chess-like moves that ultimately would triumph over each other. Thor was the one to whom all battles were grand, even when he was fighting one-on-one and so since the focus of this story was on Loki, I decided to have a lot of the big battle scenes be offscreen moments of awesome, keeping the focus small, intimate and very personal.
> 
> Also, Hel's headdress – yes, I ripped that from the trailer. Cate Blanchett looked awesome. My version of Hel still has the pink curls and glasses though, from the Japanese anime version.


	22. Epilogue

When the familiar scream of starlight dissipated, Thor lifted a hand in greeting to his friends. Most of them were gathered around the common area of the Avengers Tower. The son of Coul was not present, but as far as Thor understood, he had established a new base for SHIELD in a far more secure location. There would be time to greet him, though Thor understood that his travel by Bifrost would be far more discreet than what he had done in London. It had been a little over a month since Malekith and Thanos had been defeated in the throne room of Asgard. A month since Thor had given up the regent-kingship and returned Gungnir to Odin Allfather. A month since his mother died, a part of the casualty of those who had not survived Sleipnir's betrayal and Asgard's razing.

But most of all it had been several months since Loki escaped Death's literal grasp.

“Greetings my friends,” he walked in, ambling to the bar where the winged-one named Sam Wilson had been making some coffee. Since Jane had introduced him to coffee during his first visit to Midgard four years ago, he found that he rather liked it, though he thought it would have been better if mixed with some mead.

“Thor,” Sam greeted with a smile and poured him a mug to which he accepted with a nod of thanks.

“Thor, little buddy!” Stark waved at him, “how goes the clean up?”

“Well,” Thor sipped the coffee before putting the mug down and adding a long pour of sugar. He saw Sam stare at him with an eyebrow raised before shaking his head. Thor sipped the coffee again and savored the mildly sweet citrus flavor of the drink. “The Bifrost has been restored to all Nine Realms and commerce is flowing again.”

“Wait, the damage was that extensive?” Rogers looked up from where he sat, a notebook in his hand. Thor recognized the drawing pencils that the man usually had in his hands and knew that Rogers liked to sketch. What warmed him even further was that the metal-armed man, James Barnes, was not sitting in the corner of the balcony area outside, but rather was sitting inside, though he seemed content in sitting in a corner seat, watching the comings and goings of what was happening. It was a vast improvement from the last time Thor had seen the metal-armed man, especially since Rogers' back was facing Barnes, a clear submission and invitation for attack, but none was forthcoming.

“The Bifrost was not so much destroyed as it was altered by Thanos once he was freed from the Tesseract, at least according to Heimdall's report,” Thor explained. It had taken several tankards of mead to get Heimdall to talk about what had happened during the attack on Asgard. The Allfather had been tight-lipped and silent and so Thor had tried his best to shepherd and lead the survivors as the Allfather resumed his position on the throne. “Heimdall said that Thanos had used the Tesseract to alter the branches into more darker and shadowed areas, but for what we do not know as the Allfather had torn those branches down and restored the rightful branches. The Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and I have been keeping the peace from marauders that threaten the other realms in the meantime.”

“And Asgard itself?” Romanov asked, sitting near Barnes, her legs languidly draping across one arm, occasionally almost kicking into Barnes' drawn-up knees. Thor was not remiss in his observations of how the two reacted in close proximity – there was history behind that and it seemed that Barnes was comfortable, if not more than Rogers, with Romanov and she with him. He supposed that she was once again also acting like a barrier between Barnes and Rogers, much like she had done during their train ride from London to Fury's safehouse.

“The damage is extensive,” he admitted as he drained the rest of the coffee, “but it is being repaired. Most of the warriors that survive have been tasked with helping the workers and constructors repair the damage. I had feared that the other realms would have taken advantage of our weakened state to assert their dominance, but it is due to Helblindi's actions that none had taken advantage of the chaos that had befallen us.”

“Helblindi, as in the Frost Giant King? The one who helped us three years ago on the Bifrost?” Banner asked, looking mildly surprised though he shrugged mostly to himself, “I guess I'm not surprised, considering what he's done, but maybe...you think Loki got something to do with that?”

Thor felt the tug of a wistful smile appear on his lips at the mention of his brother. “I wish I could believe so, but even Helblindi has said that Loki has not visited him. I am inclined to believe him as he is a fair-minded being and a good king to the Jotuns since they have regained the Casket of Ancient Winters. You would be pleased to know that the Aether was given to a trusted being who lives beyond the Nine Realms, and the Tesseract is back in the Vaults.”

“Speaking of which, Point Break,” Stark spoke up, almost jumping out of his seat as he rounded it and approached him. He was fiddling with one of his suit's gloves again, though he tapped the metal end of the tool onto the glove itself, making a loud pinging noise. “Been thinking since this whole thing, and you know, your Dad kind of being generous and stuff by giving us mere mortals the, uh, Mind Gem, for safe keeping-”

“I believe it was by Death's own command, Tony Stark, not my father,” Thor pointed out and Stark waved his comment away with an absent hand.

“Yeah, but not the point. Anyway, was thinking about how Loki could have pulled this all off. You know, I mean, I've never seen _anyone_ , literally _anyone_ , tank an Infinity Stone. Even the ravens' little mind trip showing what they can do, it isn't done, right? I mean, unless he's got the ancient bloodline of magister or whatever the heck they're called, it can't be done. So what I'm thinking is that since we all saw that the Casket of Ancient Winters was created by the Space and the Mind Gem, and since Loki's got that ice boom stick that Helblindi gave to him which functions _exactly like the Casket_ , he's got to have used it as a tanking method, right?”

Thor opened his mouth to state that he did not exactly know what was going on, but could not get his words out as Stark continued as if he was not about to speak. “Here's what I think Loki did to get Thanos – he basically drew on both powers and that nullified whatever effect the Stones had on him and then he was able to somehow use his geas, the one he made with Thanos, to basically reverse it and kill him, something, I don't know, something- Hey Thor, what do all of your archmages say about that?”

“Tony, really not the time nor the person to be asking that,” Banner's mutter was heard in the embarrassing silence after the other man stopped rambling.

Thor knew that Stark was curious about what had happened and forgave him for his insensitivity. He too had speculated and wondered about what his brother had done in the last moments before he made his escape. It was something that he had never seen and as far as he knew, had never been done in all of his lifetime nor in the Allfather's lifetime. What Loki had done, defeat a mortal enemy that had plagued both the House of Bor and House of Odin; it should have been sung at the feasts for years to come. But there was no song, no feast, because no one could comprehend or understand what had happened.

Yet Thor knew that everyone had witnessed it. The recognition and song that Loki longed for was not to be sung at feasts or talked about time and time again, and it was something that Thor knew would have irked his brother since he longed for such equal recognition; but rather Thor hoped that if Loki was alive somewhere out there, he would know that such a thing would never be sung nor reminded because it was already seared and spoken by others. Because each time Thanos' defeat was mentioned, Loki the Trickster God, would be spoken with it. Loki, who had defeated an enemy that could not be defeated.

Which was why he forgave Stark for his callous and thoughtless words. He only merely shrugged, “I do not know Stark. That is a question for my brother-”

“-for the last time, I am _not_ visiting Helheim just because I miss him,” Loki's voice was proceeded by him appearing from literally thin air and Thor froze, shock coursing through him.

He had not even felt the air of _wrong_ that usually preceded the drawing of the shadows of Yggdrasil, and yet Loki stood before them, dressed in what looked like fresh tunics. They were of his usual green, gold, black coloration, but of fabrics that Thor was not familiar with. He watched as Loki seemingly knelt down by the center table of the common room, as if he was not aware of the shocked stares at his appearance, and seemingly dropped a dark serpentine creature onto the table.

Thor blinked again as he saw the flare of a small hood before the dark coloration turned into a lighter one that was utterly benign. He realized that it was a serpent and more than likely Jormungandr. “L-Loki...” he croaked out, his throat incredibly dry even though he had just finished a cup of coffee.

“Thor,” Loki turned, a familiar flat look on his face that he was so used to seeing from his brother. He did not even sound surprised nor joyful, as if he was used to seeing him after being presumed dead or otherwise after several months away.

“Y-You're...” Thor found himself taking two steps forward before he paused at the flash of something appearing in Loki's hand.

“Come any closer and I will stab you in the ribs,” his brother glared at him and Thor could only smile in response at the threat. It truly was Loki; there was no one else who could make a threat sound so affectionate. And as much as he wanted to embrace his brother right then and there, he was aware of the truth of such a threat – after all Loki did stab him in the ribs during their fight while he was under Baldr's control. Instead, he settled back and studied his brother with a practiced eye.

There was no hint of pain or malaise as Loki sheathed the dagger and walked towards where Barnes, Romanov, and Barton sat. The fact that his brother was able to walk through the shadows of Yggdrasil with ease told Thor that his magick was at peak efficiency, especially since he seemed to have carried Jormungandr with him. A quick glance at the snake showed that the serpent was surprisingly obeying Loki's commands. It was impolite of him to ask, but Thor wondered if Loki had gone back for Jormungandr after he had escaped Death and finally made the serpent his familiar. It would seem to be a fitting gesture considering all Jormungandr had did and the fact that Thor still felt a little guilty for all but killing the serpent when he cleaved him in half length-wise with Mjolnir.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Loki stopped before the metal-armed man and Thor took a couple of steps forward, curious as to why Loki was addressing the other man. Rogers had even stood up, brow wrinkled in concern as he looked between Barnes and Loki. However, Barnes was the only one of them to not look surprised – but then again Thor had a feeling that Barnes did not show any overt surprise on his stoic features.

“Loki,” Barnes replied before lifting his metal arm up, “taking it back?”

“I thank you for your safe keeping,” Loki replied neutrally and Barnes inclined his head once.

Thor watched as Loki reached out to Barnes' metal arm and seemingly drew away a layer of sorts that resolved itself into a very familiar looking tessellation. In fact, if Thor was not mistaken, it was the same tessellation that had served Loki for the last three years, once in tricking Fenrir, and another, tricking Thanos on the Bifrost. But it was not what the tessellation meant, but rather what was underneath it.

The Infinity Gauntlet. On Sergeant Barnes' metal arm.

The very one that had supposedly been stolen by Loki from the Vaults three years previous and given to Thanos only to reveal that it had been nothing but a trick. Thor realized that Loki had _actually_ stolen the Infinity Gauntlet, but like the Casket of Ancient Winters, had more than likely kept it in the space in-between where he kept some of his weapons. Thor was once again amazed at the audacity of his brother's schemes. And to add to the fact that he had given it to Sergeant Barnes, of all mortals...

“Why him? When you knew Thanos was looking for it?” Barton spoke up, his voice neutral and for the first time since Thor had seen them interact, without any malice or untoward anger.

“You were my first choice, Agent Barton,” Loki took the Gauntlet and seemingly made it disappear, “as your hatred of me would prevent you from giving the weapon that Thanos wanted even at the cost of my life. Alas, it is much easier work for me to graft a metal object onto a metal arm.”

“That's bull,” Rogers swore and Loki nodded, a mirthless smile on his face.

“True, Captain,” he acknowledged, “but your friend here understood what it meant for sacrifice no matter the cost. Every one of you, even yourself, Agent Barton, would have given up their life or anything they held dear to save another one of yourselves.” He turned to Sergeant Barnes again, “As you had said, Sergeant, 'no history' am I correct?”

Barnes merely nodded once.

“You all knew each other, you all knew me. The Sergeant here did not know of me, did not know of my history with all of you and thus, was the perfect candidate to keep such a weapon from Thanos' hands, even at great cost,” Loki shrugged, “I believe it also helped in his fight against Sleipnir, did it not?”

“It helped,” Barnes did not seem to care either way and Loki took it as his cue to turn and leave, walking past the others and towards the balcony.

“Jor, stay,” he waved an absent hand at the tiny serpent that looked like a harmless corn snake, who was coiled and resting his head on his scales. “I will return for you at a later time.”

“Loki,” Thor approached his brother, consequences be damned, and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stop. “Loki,” he started again, “please, allow me one moment before you leave again.”

He could feel the tensing of his brother's shoulder underneath the layers of garments he wore. What surprised him the most was that he could feel the skeletal bones underneath the garments and knew that while his brother looked healthy enough, it was clear that the wound Thanos had dealt him was still healing and sapping most of his strength. He supposed that it would take his brother a while until he was fully recovered.

“Fine,” Loki replied quietly before gesturing for them to go outside to the balcony where there would be a semblance of privacy.

They stepped outside and Thor rested his arms against the railings as did Loki. He studied his brother for a moment as he stared out into the hazy New York skyline, eyes roaming instead of focusing. “I am glad you came,” Thor started and saw his brother snort, the familiar mirthless smile appearing on his lips. He reached out and gripped Loki's shoulder, squeezing it gently, mindful of the fact that Loki was still healing, “I am glad.”

“Sentiment is a weakness Thor,” his brother played with the dagger in his hand, the shine of the blade catching the sunlight sending motes of light across their faces.

“Aye,” he agreed, “and so I only wished to thank you, brother.”

“For saving you?” Thor could hear the derision in Loki's voice and ignored it.

“Only to thank you, for everything,” he corrected, “nothing more, nothing less.”

Loki finally met his gaze and Thor allowed him to see the sincerity of his words in his eyes. It was perfectly true that he only merely wished to thank him. There was no specific reason nor were there any ulterior motives to his thanks. Just a mere thank you. He wanted to remind Loki that while nothing had changed, everything had changed between them. They were still equals from the very day since the feasting to the destruction of his coterie two years ago. They were equals and they were family.

It seemed some of his unspoken words and gesture got through to his stubborn brother as Loki merely nodded once, accepting his words.

Ragnarok had happened, but what was burned away in the ashes of old, a new understanding had been born. And from that, the Thunder God and the Trickster God stood as equals.

 

~END~

 


End file.
